


Wrapped In Red

by katnissdoesnotfollowback (lost_on_cloud_9)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, General Shenanigans, Holidays, Mild Language, Sexual Content, advent style fic, single daddy Peeta, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 99,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_on_cloud_9/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: Katniss is trying to be a good friend to her recently divorced pal. She really is. But this holiday season, fate, her own feelings, and Peeta’s daughter have other plans. An advent style Everlark story.





	1. Prologue - Every Year Another...

**Author's Note:**

> After writing and posting a drabble inspired by an inbox prompt, my mind wouldn’t shut off the plotting. About an hour with my post-it notes and some Kelly Clarkson Christmas music resulted in an outline for a 27 chapter fic. Prologue + 25 chapters + Epilogue. The chapters will be shorter than the prologue (the aforementioned drabble), and hopefully posted daily from here until completion. If I’m on a roll, you might get two chapters a day. No promises, though.

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“How about this one?” Peeta asks.  My eyes flick quickly over his reflection in the mirror then back down to my phone screen, grateful that he’s focused on fixing the collar of the crisp dress shirt he’s wearing without messing up the tie, and not on me. 

 

“Looks great,” I summon as much positivity into my voice as I can manage.  _ Anything but that one _ , I want to say and squeeze my thighs around my hand wedged between them to keep from doing something stupid. Like running my fingers through his hair.

 

“You didn’t even look,” Peeta chides.

 

“Yes I did,” I correct without looking up at him. “Charcoal gray slacks, navy blue dress shirt. Green striped tie. Looks great.”

 

“I just don’t know what color blazer to put with it if I’ve already got gray and navy. Black will look dumb, gray is too close to wearing a suit. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t need a blazer. Do I look like I’m trying too hard?” That word on his lips is more than I can take right now.

 

“Nope,” I insist and stand up, nearly knocking over a mannequin as I try without success to navigate my way through the minefield of menswear racks and as far from the dressing room as possible.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand on my elbow to steady me. His fingers may as well be dynamite with the impact they have on me as I nod and wave my phone at him.

 

“Prim. 9-1-1. I’ll just step outside to call her and then I’ll be back.” The lie falls off my tongue far easier than the truth would.

 

“Alright. I’ll be here,” Peeta says with a slight shrug, and I know that if I could bring myself to look him in the face, I’d find his lopsided, self-deprecating smile. The one that sends warmth coursing through me, the one that I have always associated with comfort and safety. Home.

 

Until last night, when it came to mean something completely different.

 

“I won’t be long,” I mumble as I finally escape his presence. I shove open the door and take deep gulps of the frigid winter air. I left my coat, but I can’t go back in there just yet. Now I have to wait an appropriate amount of time to convince Peeta that I’ve handled an emergency with my little sister. Crossing my arms, I shudder and move to a space between stores where he won’t be able to see me through the windows.

 

I would close my eyes and take a few more deep breaths to steady myself, but I know what I’ll find there if I do that. The same thing that’s kept me from being able to look my best friend in the eyes for the past hour while we’ve been shopping.

 

_ The bed creaks in a steady rhythm, a pulse beat to the tune of sex being played out above its sheets. My mouth hangs open, vocal chords pinched to keep from uttering a sound. But the bedsprings don’t lie as Peeta stares up at me, blue eyes dark in the night, the rest of his face hidden beneath me. Broad palms cup my ass and his fingers clench. A soft moan vibrates from his lips to mine. I grip his hair and ride his face, unashamed and uninhibited, pleasure invading every pore of my skin and every last nerve ending. _

 

My phone chimes and I stare at the message from Cinna, wondering if there’s a message between the lines.  _ Tell Peeta tan pants would make a blazer feasible. _ Probably not. Cinna’s a great friend and a wizard with clothes, but I doubt he could figure out that me asking for advice on Peeta’s clothes translates into a desperate plea for guidance on how to not screw up the most important friendship I have. 

 

With a shiver, I stand and head back inside the store. Peeta’s already at the checkout, talking with the young woman behind the counter. She laughs at something he’s said and her cheeks flush as she responds. Fury flares through me. I march up next to him and clear my throat.

 

“I’ve got your coat. Everything okay with Prim?” he asks immediately, resting a hand on my shoulder, eyes honed in on me. “You’re freezing! Hot chocolate on me after this.”

 

The promise goes a long way to mollify me, but nearly as far as the heat of his arms as they wrap around me and Peeta pulls me into his chest. My eyes close instantaneously and my entire body relaxes, wiping away the stress of a fitful night of sleep. Even though it’s his fault I barely slept at all.

 

_ “I need to be inside you, Katniss,” Peeta pleads as we work together to strip off his pants. His lips and chin still glisten from eating me out. My hands shake and my pulse pounds -- skipping as I see that he’s wearing green boxers. He smiles when I pluck at the waistband. “Your favorite color. Take ‘em off, Katniss. Take them off and see how much I want you. How fucking hard my cock is right now.” I whisk them off and Peeta groans when I wrap my hand around him. _

 

“Two tall hot chocolates, one with whipped cream and cinnamon. One with no topping,” Peeta tells the barista and hands over a few bills to pay for our order. He fumbles a little with the garment bag containing his new clothes and I shift my gaze outside to the cold gray clouds hanging low in the sky. When Peeta finally manages to get his wallet back in his pocket and his bags situated, he rests one hand on the small of my back as we weave through the crowd towards an empty table.

 

“It’s supposed to snow later,” I say as I drop into my seat. Peeta sits across from me and settles his bags before he stares at me for a moment. I should say something else to distract him before he asks--

 

“Are you sure everything is okay? Do you need to leave and get to Prim?”

 

“No,” I insist, cheeks heating and hoping he doesn’t pry any further. An awkward silence settles between us and I watch absently as Peeta traces a line of the woodgrain in the table with his fingernail.

 

“I can’t thank you enough for coming with me today, Katniss,” he murmurs and the tenor of his voice recalls warm whispers in bedsheets at midnight and later. I suppress a shiver and snap my eyes up to his face, suddenly guilty for the way I’ve been behaving today. 

 

_ An elongated moan shivers down my spine as Peeta’s fingers clench on my hip and his cock fills me to the brim. With his hips flush to my ass, he kisses over my shoulders. Soft as raindrops as he murmurs and flexes his fingers. I push back into him, impatient and hanging on the edge of sanity. He curses and then starts thrusting. The bed resumes its squeaking and I bury my face in the sheets, gulping down lungfuls of musty air and Peeta’s scent enshrouded in his bed. _

 

He needs me right now and I’ve been the worst sort of friend. “I know shopping for clothes is not high on your list of things you enjoy doing. Right under having your fingernails plucked one by one.”

 

I snort and Peeta lifts a tentative smile to me. I wave off his concerns and shift to watching the baristas at work behind the counter, one of them singing carols in time with the whirring of the blenders as she makes several frappuccinos at once. “It’s fine. I don’t mind so much.”

 

“Oh good. Then I can count on your help next week when I have to take Karina shopping for a dress.” I laugh and shake my head, but my smile is genuine, thinking of the words his daughter earnestly announced a few days ago. Her requirements for a new dress. 

 

_ “Red and sparkly, please, Daddy. Gramma said I need something pretty to wear to  _ The Nutcracker _. _ ”

 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I tell him. Secretly, I’m hoping to talk her into green velvet and maybe some cream tights and Mary Janes. With her cherubic cheeks, ash blond curls and blue eyes that she inherited from her father, I already know that she’ll look magnificent in green.

 

It’s not that Peeta wouldn’t follow her into a hundred stores and give Karina his undivided attention through thousands of dresses. He’s easily one of the best fathers I know. It’s just that I adore his daughter, and he knows it. She’s a beautiful little ray of sunshine and sass.

 

The barista calls Peeta’s name and he winks at me before he stands and turns to get our drinks.  _ Shit _ . I think as my eyes dip to his ass. Tearing my gaze away, I desperately try to think about dress shopping with Karina to distract me, but sultry caresses ghost over my mind and before I know it, I’m lost in the memory again.

 

_ He’s handsy at first, touching every inch of exposed skin as he pounds into me and I bite the sheets to keep quiet. Small squeals still escape my lips, in harmony with the bedsprings and Peeta’s whispered curses. I’m building towards something irreversible and inescapable, my eyes screwed shut and face contorted. I reach and grasp for it, crying out in protest when Peeta pulls out of me. He flips me over and holds his cock in his fist, hand jerking frantically as his eyes capture mine. Hot flames lick over my belly as his cum lands on my skin. One spurt, then another. His hand slows and his body shudders as he milks himself onto me.  _

 

I jump when the cheerfully decorated red and green cup lands in front of me and I have to mentally shake myself. Force my attention to Peeta as he picks the conversation right back up where we left it. Gradually, I manage to relax a little more. The longer we talk, the more I’m able to convince myself that nothing has to change.

 

“I gotta get Karina from my Mom’s,” Peeta says eventually as he glances at his watch and winces. I briefly wonder if he’ll be wearing that watch tonight. If he’ll think of me every time he glances at it since I gave it to him. I barely manage to banish the uncharitable thought as he stands and I gulp down the last of my hot chocolate. When we’re once more bundled up in our coats and outside in the chill, Peeta walks me to my car and waits until I get the door unlocked and opened before we speak again. “Are we still on for tonight?”

 

“Yeah,” I answer. Peeta wraps his free arm around me, the other one still carrying his purchases. I get both arms around his waist and for just a moment, I can lie to myself. He kisses my temple, like he’s done a thousand times before this, but today, the sweet gesture stabs deep. And I know...I don’t want to let go.

 

_ When he’s done painting me with his cum, he orders me to hold my legs together and rest them on my chest. Peeta grips my thigh and teases me with his still hard cock. Spreads my folds then slides back into me. Then my feet hang over his shoulder and he lays over me, capturing my legs between our hot bodies while his cock strokes me again. I’m begging and thrashing in seconds, the feel of him that deep so impossibly good. My nails dig into his thighs as he drills me and then -- oh god and then I come. I come in waves that crash and burn then soak both him and the sheets. I come until I’m sure I’m going to die because I can’t even take a breath or speak. And then...I wake up. Alone. _

 

But I did let go. I lecture myself as I yank my sheets from the dryer and toss them on the bed before angrily redressing it. I’ve got an hour before I need to be at Peeta’s house and cleaning seems good way to burn off some anger and frustration. It’s better than the alternative I’ve been contemplating -- masturbating to the memories of my dream last night. I’ve already done more than enough damage to my psyche with that cursed vision. Waking up alone in my bed with my panties fucking soaked, my clitoris and my walls still clenching in a phantom orgasm, my pulse pounding and my body covered in a sheen of sweat, left wondering what in the hell triggered my brain to produce an erotic dream about my best friend and make it impossible for me to even look at him for most of the day. And not just any erotic dream, one detailed and powerful enough to actually make me orgasm, a feat no real man has managed in well over a year.

 

The fitted sheet snaps off one corner and I growl at it to behave. As if it understands me at all or isn’t the product of the devil. But of course, I’m completely sane, didn’t you know? Because perfectly sane people definitely yell at the sheets they cream all over because of a fucking dream version of their best friend.

 

I finally manage to corral the devil sheets and scrub my bathroom. I even manage a quick shower and dress in jeans and a chunky knit sweater, something casual and not in the least sexy at all. I’m still at least twenty minutes early by the time I get to Peeta’s, but he’s used to me being early by now. I ring the bell to warn him and then open the door with my key.

 

“Katniss! Katniss! Katniss!” Karina squeals and throws herself at me. I laugh and embrace her tightly. She’s one of the few people who can pull a laugh like that from me. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight!”

 

She talks five hundred miles an hour and I try to keep up as we settle in the kitchen where she’s got watercolor paints and paper all set up for us. She’s already started on a picture and flits from one topic to the next. My heart aches as I realize what she’s doing and place a hand over hers to still her movements. She’s still talking, but I can see the question in her eyes.

 

_ Will Daddy still love me if he falls in love tonight? Will everything change again? _

 

“Karina, did I hear the doorbell?” Peeta asks and I glance up into the doorway. He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Something cracks inside me as I realize that he’s nervous. He must like this woman. His hands make a mess of the green striped tie and Karina sighs.

 

“Katniss is here. You missed a loop, Daddy,” she tells him and he tucks his chin down to stare at the tie. Kariia and I share a quick glance and I stand first.

 

“You’re making it worse,” I mutter and bat his hands away. Other than the disaster of the tie, he looks amazing. Sweet and yet shy, kind. Approachable. Hot. Utterly fuckable.

 

“Sorry. I’m just a little nervous,” he admits. After a moment of untangling the mess, I loop and swoop and tuck until I’ve got a perfect double Windsor. Just like I did for my Dad when he and Mom were having a date night. I’d help him with his tie while she finished her makeup. My hands freeze and I stare at the knot, still below Peeta’s collar. I should slide it up, but can’t make myself.

 

Peeta’s hand covers mine, warm and gentle. I think of all the times he’s been there for me and how this is finally my chance to return the favors. I slide the knot higher and manage to look up at him. His expression unreadable as we stare at one another. For a second, my fingers curl around the knot. My stomach ties itself into a twin and my palms itch. Lips part. Peeta’s eyes drop and I manage to clear my hazy thoughts.

 

“There,” I say and yank my hand back. “Handsome as ever. She’ll be crazy about you for sure.”

 

I spin around and focus on Karina. For a second, I think she looks as dejected as I feel, but within seconds, she’s back to chattering about the paintings she’s been working on, hardly missing a step when she pauses to tilt her cheek for a kiss from her Dad or to tell him to “Have a good time.”

 

I shove down everything resembling a feeling and remind myself that a real friend wouldn’t be fantasizing about fucking her recently divorced and just now reentering the dating scene friend. Somehow, I have to forget about the best orgasm I’ve never really had and support my friend. I can start by cheerfully babysitting his daughter while he’s on his first first date in twelve years and not thinking about licking his abs.


	2. December 1st: Everybody's Happy

**_December 1st: Everybody’s Happy…_ **

“He said _what?!_ ” Madge hisses and I glance around the restaurant to make sure no one else hears me when I repeat the words. Of course, everyone else is engrossed with their conversation or their food. There’s a mother with two kids, laughing and stacking sugar packets in a house of cards style while they wait for their food, an elderly couple holding hands and talking over cups of coffee, a woman in her smiling softly and lost in the world of the book she’s reading, and one group of obnoxious businessmen harassing their server. Just your typical December first luncheon crowd.

“He said that I should get advice on lady scaping from his ex-girlfriend because she makes an artform out of it,” I whisper, my cheeks flaming red. The young couple three tables over snuggles closer and shares a quick kiss. I roll my eyes and stab at my salad. “Then he told me that he only had sex with me because he thought I scowled too much, and that he knew he could put a smile on my face.”

“Unbelievable,” Madge mutters. “What an a-hole.”

I nod and cup a hand over my chin to catch a stray leaf of lettuce because I am a total lady. I do manage to chew and swallow my food before I speak again. “Yeah, well, he was a guy in a bar and a means to scratch an itch. Real class act.”

Madge shakes her head again as I shrug, fascinated by the remains of salad dressing that I scoop out of its plastic cup and onto my salad. It’s better than facing her judgement for my impulsive act two nights ago. Driven by a glance at the calendar that reminded me of a certain dream that occurred exactly one year previous, I left the comfort of my home seeking self-destructive ways to cope. My plan had been alcohol oblivion at first, but that led to an unfortunate one-night stand. I already regret what I did, and not just because of the shitty things he said to me. I don’t need Madge making me feel worse. In fact, I’m not sure why I told her about it at all, other than the fact that she’s the only person left I can talk to about this. Cinna’s asexual so I hate to make him uncomfortable with sex talk. Johanna’s solution to everything is more sex and more alcohol and nudity – not helpful at all. It’s too weird talking about this sort of thing with Prim. Or Gale because we tried dating in high school with epic failure. I used to talk with Peeta about this sort of thing, but after that dream I had a year ago…yeah not happening anymore. I need to change the subject.

“So… what’s new with you?”

“Oh, nothing exciting,” Madge answers too quickly. When I look up, she’s fiddling with her napkin and her cheeks are stained a pretty pink.

“That’s not nothing,” I say.

“Okay, okay,” Madge tucks back her hair and looks around the restaurant for eavesdroppers. I wonder what she could possibly have to tell me that she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “Gale and I weren’t gonna tell anyone yet but…I’m pregnant!” The last word escapes as a squeak and my jaw drops open.

“That’s…great!” I manage to enthuse when I really want to ask, “ _Are you crazy?”_

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to say that out loud,” she gushes and I shove more salad in my maw and nod enthusiastically to keep from ruining her joy. This will make number five for them. They already have three girls and one boy. My head hurts just thinking about the grocery bill. “We weren’t going to say anything until the third trimester, just in case.”

Hers words sink my stomach and I nod in understanding. After four successful pregnancies, they went through two miscarriages that almost killed their marriage. Now I feel like shit for my unkind thoughts. She and Gale have always wanted a big family. They’ve got the space, the money, and the love to pull it off and just because that’s not what I want for my life doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for them.

I muster a smile and grab the check when the server sets the black folio on the table. “It’s on me,” I tell her. “Secret present from Santa while the news is still hush hush.”

“Thanks, Katniss.” Madge smiles at me and answers a text while I pay the bill.

Work fills the rest of my afternoon and by the time five-thirty rolls around, I need something to relax me. Since self-destruct mode backfired on me, I revert to my usual habits and shoot a message to Peeta to let him know I’m on my way over. I could use my best friend right now, and chilling at his place with him and Karina sounds like a great way to spend Friday evening. He answers me almost immediately.

**_Oh thank god. I need an ally._ **

I scrunch my face in confusion and quicken my steps as I cross the parking lot. It takes a few minutes for my truck to warm up, and I spend them warming my hands and repeating my mantra that’s been the only thing between me and sanity since that fateful dream last year. _It’s not broken. Don’t touch it._

After all, it was just a stupid dream and not worth ruining the best thing in my life.

The drive is quick and it’s not even dark yet when I pull up in front of Peeta’s cozy town-home. The door opens before I even ring the bell and Karina smiles up at me. “You’re just in time!”

“For what?” I ask as I’m dragged towards the living room.

“Movie night!”

“If that’s Katniss, I need an assist in the kitchen,” Peeta calls out and Karina drops my hand to shove me towards the sound of his voice.

“Sure thing, Daddy!” With one good push, she sends me stumbling into the kitchen. Peeta stands up from behind the cabinets and sets a popcorn maker on the counter. “She’s all yours. Take your time. No hurry. I’ll just go call Meaghan real quick!”

Something in the tone of her voice warns me that all is not right in the Mellark household, emphasized by Peeta’s sigh as soon as she leaves.

“I thought I could handle this,” Peeta mutters and snatches up a bag of kernels before adding them and the oil to the popcorn maker.

“You look like you have things under control,” I say as I hoist myself up onto one of the stools at the island and wave towards the popcorn machine.

“I always have the kitchen under control,” he says with a quirk of his lips. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then what?” I ask and Peeta flips on the machine. He glances over my shoulder. I twist to see what he’s looking at, but there’s no one there. When I turn back around, I jump in surprise. He’s so close, leaning on his forearms, his nose just inches from mine. Why is he leaning that close to me?

“Custody changes came in on Monday,” he tells me.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I gasp.

“We’ve been…adjusting,” Peeta murmurs and folds his fingers together, tilts his head down to stare at them. A wayward lock of hair falls over his forehead and I resist reaching out to tame it.

“How’s Karina taking it?”

“That’s the strange part. She’s been insanely cheerful. I think I’m more worked up over it than she is,” Peeta says. “Other than the weird obsession she’s suddenly developed with Hallmark Channel Christmas movies…she’s been acting exactly the same.”

“That’s good,” I try to encourage him and he lifts one eyebrow at me. “I mean, good riddance, right?”

Peeta purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He’s too nice to say anything about his lying, cheating ex-wife but I’ve got no qualms. He deserves so much better than Glimmer and so does Karina. The fact that she willingly surrendered her limited custody is a blessing in disguise. At least, I think it is, but Peeta’s odd behavior makes me think that I’m missing something. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that--”

“Is it too early for Karina to be boy crazy? I’m not sure I’m ready for puberty yet,” he says in a rush, cutting off my words. I can’t help it, I laugh and his cheeks turn adorably red.

“No one’s ever ready for puberty,” I tell him. “Prim was a beast to deal with.”

“Not what I needed to hear.” Peeta stands to take care of the popcorn, which has finished popping by now and I slide off the stool to grab drinks for everyone.

“Hallmark Christmas movies, huh? Aren’t they all sappy, cheesy romances?”

“They are!” He wails and I grin at how stupidly flustered he is. It’s kind of cute. “She’s been marathoning them and insisting I watch with her since the day after Thanksgiving. The phone’s practically glued to her ear when she’s not watching them or working on school work. Which is why I think she might have a serious crush. I’ve been telling her that love takes time, but I’m not sure that it’s sinking in through all the crappy dialogue. If you care even the tiniest bit about my sanity, please suggest we watch something else.”

“I don’t know,” I tease as I set the juice boxes on the counter. “I might be in the mood for something sappy and romantic.”

Peeta snorts and scoops popcorn into three bowls. For some reason, his dismissal irks me a little, but I focus on the problem at hand rather than my bruised ego. It’s been a long year for all of us, maybe especially for Peeta and Karina. He waited awhile after the divorce was finalized before he started dating again, but nothing came out of any of his dates. Online sites, hook-ups through family and friends and coworkers, even his divorce support group yielded one brief fling. None of them amounted to anything. Not one of them even got as far as meeting Karina. I can’t even remember the last date he mentioned. Jenna? Britney? Whatever, she’s gone and doesn’t matter anymore.

I grab the ends of my braid and twist it around my finger to keep from biting my nails, take a deep breath, and say something I’d almost rather not, afraid how he’ll take it after the string of dating failures. “Maybe Karina isn’t boy crazy. Maybe she’s trying to tell you that she wants you to really try dating again.”

Peeta freezes and looks up at me, something intense and unnamable in his blue eyes that pins me in place. My breath catches in my throat and then he grins at me, breaking the weird tension in the room. “Sound idea right there, since it went so well last time.”

“Love takes time,” I shrug and reach for the tray he’s loaded with movie snacks, but he beats me to it.

“Come on Everdeen, if I have to suffer through this, then so do you. Penance for that five-kilometer hike through the woods you dragged us on last month.”

“Karina loved that!” I protest but follow him into the living room where sure enough, the TV glows with the soft lighting of a Hallmark Christmas movie.

“She did love it,” he whispers, the warmth of his tone and of his breath on my skin settles inside me, molten and glowing softly like the tree onscreen. I shake it off as we distribute snacks. We settle on either side of Karina, who shoots up the second my butt hits the couch.

“I forgot something! Be right back!”

Twenty minutes later, I’m underwhelmed by the plot of the movie and nodding off, head bouncing in my struggle to stay awake. It’s on one of the more violent jolts that I realize Karina never rejoined us. Peeta pulls me up against him and I settle into the warmth. “Why are we watching this alone?”

“I can change it,” Peeta murmurs and I shake my head.

“It’s helping me sleep.” I drift for an indeterminate time. Eventually, Karina reenters the room, perching on the far-left side of the couch and whispering to Peeta that she needed to call Meaghan again about something. Peeta’s body shifts as he whispers to her and Karina settles in his embrace opposite me. And that’s the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep in Peeta’s arms.


	3. December 2nd - Snow Is Falling Down

**_December 2 nd: Snow Is Falling Down_ **

At first, I think that it must be past noon and shoot right out of the bed. I never sleep in this late. With a growl, I stalk over to the window and separate two slats in the blinds, squinting when the reflected light off the snow causes an instant headache. There’s at least two feet on the ground and it’s still falling.

I have a love-hate relationship with snow, and right now I’m undecided which way my feelings will swing. The scent of fresh cinnamon French toast wafts through the house, giving snow a serious favorable edge if it’s gotten me a delicious, Peeta-made breakfast. But then I glance down at the oversized shirt I’m wearing. It’s one of Peeta’s old dress shirts that he pulled out for me to sleep in last night. After the movie and a late dinner, Peeta and I sat in the kitchen and talked until I was too tired to drive myself home. Of course, Peeta insisted I stay the night, but now it looks like I’m stuck here with no change of clothes or toothbrush. And the shirt barely covers my ass.

“What are you even thinking, Katniss? No one here cares what you look like,” I mutter to myself and whirl back towards the door. I grab the Sherpa lined blanket off the foot of the bed and wrap it around me before heading towards the bathroom. Once I’m somewhat refreshed, I brave the downstairs.

In the kitchen, I find Peeta flipping toast and humming to himself, a kitchen towel draped over one shoulder and jazz renditions of Christmas carols playing on a small speaker hooked to his ancient iPod. For a second, I am mesmerized by his steady, fluid motions as he cooks, the way his t-shirt stretches across his shoulders. Peeta’s hair, normally somewhat tamed, sticks up in a few sides.

“Morning,” I say and his head whips up in surprise.

“Morning,” he returns.

“Can I help?”

“Sure, if you want to. I’ve got some oranges in the basket over there. Slice those up for me?”

It should be weird. I’ve never stayed over before. And yet it isn’t weird at all. We work well together, in comfortable silence. Although, I do have some difficulty keeping the blanket wrapped around me. Every time I take a wayward step, the blanket parts and I shiver at the cold that hits my bare legs.

“What’s next, maestro?” I ask with a smile when I’m done with the oranges.

Peeta has to clear his throat before he answers, his voice hoarse when he says, “Could you make us some tea?”

“Sounds like you need it. You aren’t getting sick, are you?” I tease a little, but I really can’t afford to catch anything.

“I hope not. At least, stressed-out parent isn’t catching.”

“All the same…stand back,” I say, striking a defensive pose. Peeta laughs a little. We slip back into silence, working to the tune of the French toast sizzling and Natalie Cole crooning on the speakers until Karina bounces into the room. She’s still in pajamas but her rosy cheeks and bright eyes signal that she’s ready to face the day.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Peeta teases and ruffles her hair.

“It’s not even that late, Dad,” she complains but she’s smiling and opens a drawer to get out the utensils. “I’ll set the table!”

Once the tea is ready, I juggle the blanket around my waist and two mugs in my hands, elbowing Peeta to get his attention. He turns to me with a sweet smile and something about the moment makes my innards curl and warm.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he takes the mug from me, and it feels like some kind of cliché scene in one of those Hallmark movies Karina has grown so fond of. I step back and now I’m the one having to clear my throat.

“You’re welcome.”

“Is it germ free?” he asks with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Guess you’ll find out,” I say.

“Why would it have germs?” Karina asks as she passes by us to get the plates from the cabinets. For some reason, her question makes me think of that dream I had last year which leads to thoughts about Peeta’s current bed-hair state which leads to imagining ways to make it worse and maybe share germs. And even though the last stop on my crazy thought train is perversely about sex, I find myself a little turned on by it. Or by him. With his daughter in the room. Great timing.

“Nothing, Kare-Bear,” Peeta tells her, giving her a one-armed hug. “We’re just teasing.”

“Oh,” Karina says. She sounds oddly disappointed. I don’t have time to think about it, though, because she’s already moved on to the next topic. “It snowed last night!”

“It did,” Peeta says as he plops two slices of toast on the top plate of Karina’s stack. She sets it aside and holds up the next plate for him to fill.

“Can we go sledding?” she asks gleefully.

“Sure. I don’t have to work today,” Peeta tells her. Karina dances towards the table with her two full plates and I grab the bowl of oranges and the syrup from the pan of hot water where it’s been warming. Peeta fills his own plate and smiles. He looks so happy at the thought of spending a day in the snow with his daughter. It’s disgustingly adorable and sexy.

“Katniss should come, too!”

An awkward pause follows Karina’s enthusiastic invitation. On any other day, it wouldn’t be unusual for them to invite me on a family-type outing. I’m his friend and the stray spinster aunt who’s not really an aunt that they allow to tag along on their adventures. Suddenly, I’m feeling sorry for myself and more than a little self-conscious, like I’ve somehow worn out my welcome here by staying the night and invading their family breakfast.

“If she’s not busy,” Karina adds before either Peeta or I can answer. A polite decline is forming on my tongue when he soothes my fears.

“They probably won’t plow the roads until later,” he says. “We’re on the back half of their route. Might as well enjoy yourself until you can get home.”

I glance between two eager pairs of blue eyes, uncertain.

“Please, Katniss? We want you to come with us,” Karina begs, bouncing in her seat.

“It’ll be fun,” Peeta urges, elbowing me slightly as he picks up the syrup. How anyone can deny that puppy dog look from _two_ of them is beyond me.

That’s how I find myself on a hill two blocks from their neighborhood, dressed in my jeans from yesterday, my coat, and the oversized shirt I wore to bed, the wind stinging my cheeks as the three of us take turns with their two sleds. It feels good, having fun like this. It’s something I don’t get to do often between work and years spent practically raising my little sister.

Karina challenges Peeta to a race, pouting with good humor every time he beats her. With a sly grin, I wait until they’re about to take off before I plunk myself on the sled behind Peeta. The rails sink into the snow with a crunch. Karina flies down the hill with a squeal, but with my added weight on the sled, Peeta goes nowhere.

“Cheating!” he yells. Karina’s laughter floats back up to us. “Alright, if we’re playing dirty…”

Before I can react, Peeta’s flung us both sideways into the snow. It gets inside my clothes and I shiver as we wrestle for control. I wind up sprawled on his chest, my arms pinned at my sides and my legs hugged by his. We’re both laughing and his breath puffs over my cheek. I shiver again and Peeta’s laughter dies.

Once more, the world upends and he’s apologizing, his face redder than it was moments ago. “Shit, I’m sorry Katniss. I forgot you’re not exactly dressed for this.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but my rattling teeth suggest otherwise. Even Karina expresses concern when she rejoins us. Before I know what happened, I’m shoved into her bathroom with a thick dark blue robe, heavy woolen socks, and orders to take a warm shower or else. Afterwards, Peeta’s already got lunch and hot chocolate ready. He fusses over me the rest of the afternoon and by dinner, I no longer care that I spent the entire day in someone else’s clothes.


	4. December 3rd - Prayers Are Being Answered

I wince when I reach for the top shelf to get down the last item Mags needs. Hiding the expression behind a smile, I add it to her cart. “There we go. All set?”

Mags nods and mumbles a few words. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand her. A stroke several years back damaged her speech. It took me weeks to learn how to listen to her when I started working here, but now I can just make out what she’s saying.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I don’t go shopping on Black Friday. The crowds are just too much to handle.” I agree with her as we walk towards the checkout lanes. She gives me a gummy smile and we chat about our discomfort in large crowds. Thankfully, Mags’ granddaughter loves taking her around town and helping her shop during times when the crowds aren’t so bad.

When we reach the checkout area, Karina steps up with a cheerful greeting to help unload the cart and check the items with the cashier before bagging them. I can’t help the small bit of pride I feel at the sight. I know she’s not mine, but I love getting to spend time with just her like this. We started working at the Panem Food Bank during the spring, as part of a community service project for her Girl Scout Troop. When our four weeks were up, though, she wanted to keep volunteering. Now we spend every Sunday here, just me and Karina.

While she and Leevy take care of Mags, I head back towards the boxed meals aisle where I noticed a mess earlier. I straighten the boxes, ignoring the twinges in my back. I could use a massage today and probably won’t be getting one.

After our sledding adventures, Karina kept finding reasons I couldn’t leave. First, my clothes were in the washing machine – put there and washed by her. Once my clothes were clean and dry, I just _had_ to stay for dinner since she and Peeta were making their famous homemade chicken and wild rice soup complete with a side of fresh baked crusty bread. I can’t resist a meal Peeta makes. It’s not that I’m a bad cook so much as I’m not a great cook. Give me a few random ingredients and I can improvise a meal, but Peeta makes cooking an artform. I’d like to think I make eating an artform, but I could be wrong.

By the time dinner was done and the dishes washed, the snow had started back up and Karina practically insisted that I stay the night. Since my place sits between theirs and the food bank, we could easily swing by my apartment in the morning for a change of clothes before we went to our weekly shift, she argued. It would save me on gas money.

That was when it occurred to me that Karina was _trying_ to keep me there. That maybe Peeta was wrong about the custody changes not affecting Karina at all. I don’t think that I’m somehow important to Karina, but I have been a constant presence in her life through the mess of the divorce, the adjustments after, and the unsuccessful dating. Now her own mother has given up any claim to her. I’m familiar with the kind of hurt that can cause. My mother may not have done so willingly, but sometimes it feels as if she abandoned us after Dad died.

In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to leave when Karina so clearly wanted me around, so after sharing a whispered conversation with Peeta, we agreed I’d stay one more night, making it clear to Karina that I would have to return to my place tonight for work tomorrow.

There’s just one problem with spending the night after spending half the day in my best friend’s borrowed robe and no panties. It elicits all kinds of naughty thoughts. Explicit naughty thoughts about licking his arms and biting his hips and grabbing his ass and curiosity about his dick and even his skill with it. All of that compounded by the fact that he was down the hall the whole night. Just ten seconds of tiptoeing away from me and my greedy hands.

Obviously, I barely slept last night, tossing and turning until well into the morning, desperately trying not to think about my naked skin against Peeta’s robe or what it might feel like to have him slowly open the robe, eyes filled with lust. I tried not to imagine his lips warm on my skin while I reclined on his bed and let him fulfill every last fantasy that would be certain to earn me an entire stocking filled with coal.

I had very little success and didn’t even get the release of an orgasm in my sleep since I was too busy trying _not_ to orgasm. I thought I’d dealt with this issue months ago.

At least we’re busy today at the food bank. Sunday is one of our best days for donations, too. I’m grateful for it when I get sent to the loading docks to help unload goods from the fleet of church vans. At least four of them are conducting food drives and that brings in plenty to make sure our regular patrons have a nice Christmas meal and really, a decent December in terms of food. It has the added benefit of distracting me from my thoughts of Peeta.

When we’re done, Karina and I dash for my truck. She pulls out her phone to text Peeta that we’re on our way home.

“Oh no,” she says softly.

“What?” I ask as I crank the heater full blast.

“He’s at the pharmacy right now.”

“Why?” I ask.

“He looked a little tired this morning maybe he’s sick.”

“What symptoms does he have?” My brain kicks immediately into care-taker mode.

“He’s not saying.”

I grumble under my breath and drive us straight for their home. Peeta’s just getting out of his car as we pull up.

“Hey, how was the food bank?” Peeta asks with a wan smile.

“Get in the house,” I order and his eyes widen. “Now.”

“Okay, bossy,” he murmurs and heads inside with Karina and I right behind.

“I’m fine. I’ll just take some flu stuff and rest this afternoon. Be fine in the morning,” he says. One look at him and I know he’s downplaying it. Circles have already formed beneath his eyes, his skin is pale and sallow. When I press my hand to his cheek, he’s burning hot.

Once he’s removed his coat and boots, I push him straight into the kitchen, digging through his canvas grocery bag to see what he’s purchased.

“Katniss, really. I’m –”

“Take this now,” I order as I shove a cup of the flu medicine at him. Once he’s taken that, I force him to drink a cup of water and one of orange juice. My mother and sister might be a nurse and a doctor respectively with far better bedside manners, but I’m efficient. Within minutes, I’ve got him hydrated,  drugged up, and tucked into bed. I send Karina into the kitchen to warm up some of the leftover soup for him to eat while I force march him up the stairs. When Karina brings up the soup, I banish her from the room and sit next to the bed until Peeta’s eaten every bite. The only reason I don’t feed him is because he glares at me when I try.

“Get some sleep,” I order as he lays back, one arm draped over his eyes. He chuckles with no humor and mumbles that sleep is part of the cause of the disease. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well last night,” he says and shifts the covers. Before I can ask what kept him awake, he sits upright and startles me. “Shit, Karina has that project due tomorrow. We were gonna finish it this afternoon.”

Peeta struggles to disentangle himself from the sheets while I juggle the empty bowl and water cup I need to refill for him. I get one hand firmly on his chest and shove. “Get your ass back in bed.”

He lands on the mattress and stares at the ceiling, stunned, I think. I know I’m not nearly as strong as him, but it can’t be that shocking, can it? He’s sick.

“I’ll help Karina with her project. You get some rest.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Katniss,” he says, once more standing up.

“Why not?” I ask and shove him back once more. He’s ready this time and bounces right back up to face me.

“Because I’m her parent.”

“And if you breathe all over her right now or cough like that,” I wave at him as his body shakes with a coughing fit, “you’ll just get her sick too.”

I can tell I’ve won, even if he doesn’t like it, when he glares at me. Hand on his chest, I push more gently this time and he goes without a fight. “Bed. Now.”

He shakes his head but curls back up under the sheets. I manage to awkwardly adjust the blankets and he rolls to present his back to me, shuddering with more awful sounding coughs. He mumbles something I don’t catch, and I fill in the blanks.

“I can handle one school project, Peeta.”

“I know you can; that’s not what I was saying,” he whispers. “I’m not sure there’s anything you _couldn’t_ handle. I just shouldn’t have to ask you to.”

I wrinkle my nose in confusion, wondering what the hell that means. But I’ve got work to do and leave the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

After I’ve dealt with the dirty dishes, I find Karina in her bedroom, sprawled on her bed and reading a book. “Alright, your Dad’s really sick and we’ve got a school project to finish and then we’ll make some dinner. If we get it all done early enough, we’ll have time for something fun.”

“Really?” Karina asks, excitement in her voice. I narrow my eyes at her and she coughs. I flatten my hand on her forehead to check for fever and she shrugs me off. “I mean, that’s bad. Is there anything else we can do to help Dad feel better?”

“Let’s start with getting your school work done, shall we?”

“Right! To the kitchen!” she sing-songs and bounces her way downstairs. She’s a touch too cheerful for having a bedridden and sick father. The mood swings and lack of logic leave me dizzy. I’m starting to think Peeta may have been on to something, worrying about puberty arriving.


	5. December 4th - Miracles All Around

Thankfully, I’m an early riser. Also thankfully, I ran home last night to toss together a bag with essentials to cover me for a few days, because sick or not, Peeta’s got it in his stubborn head to try to do too much. 

 

“Oh no,” I scold him when he drags his clearly suffering body into the kitchen at six thirty in the morning. “Get you and your germ ridden body right back in bed.”

 

“I have to take Karina to school,” he protests and then bends over in a coughing fit. 

 

“And I suppose you’re going into work after that? Serving up flu with the cheese rolls at the bakery?” I ask, annoyed that he’s pushing himself too hard. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Don’t be stubborn.”

 

I can feel Karina’s eyes darting between the two of us, see her hand frozen and suspended over her bowl of oatmeal as she watches the exchange. He’s going to argue, I can feel it. He already tried, without success, to get me to leave last night when I woke him for another dose of medicine and water and he realized how late it was, claiming that I’m not responsible for his well being.

He needs rest and time to heal. I intend to make sure he gets it because I care about him and friends take care of one another.

I set down my own spoon and stand,  stalking towards him until I can move him out of earshot.

 

“Me stubborn?” Peeta asks as he wheezes. “What are you then?”

 

“Immovable,” I say as I cross my arms and scowl at him. “You’re going back to bed and I’m taking Karina and her project to school.”

 

“I can’t ask you to do this Katniss.”

 

“Why not? You’re sick and she needs a ride to school. You’d do the same for me if things were reversed.”

 

Peeta opens his mouth to argue then closes it. Runs a hand through his hair. I grin in triumph. “Just a second…Let me think.”

 

“Why bother, Peeta? You know I’m right.”

 

“I can’t even get through a week of full custody without falling apart…” he mumbles. My heart aches as I realize what he’s worried about — that he’s somehow failing Karina because he got sick. That it’s just a sign of things to come. Idiot. Doesn’t he know what an amazing dad he already is?

 

“Oh Peeta, stop that.” I wrap my arms around his neck, uncaring about germs or snot. He returns the embrace and we stand there holding one another. I let my fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck and search for the words to say. “You’d call your Mom to help if I weren’t already here.”

 

“She’s…family,” Peeta argues weakly. “And retired. You have to make it into work.”

 

“Plutarch can’t afford to lose me. He’ll look the other way if I’m late on occasion. And some friend of mine used to always tell me there was no shame in asking for help if you need it. Can’t remember his name right now…”

 

“You’re smug when you’re right,” he says, but there’s some of his usual humor in his tone. 

 

“I don’t mind.” When he pulls back, I see something like relief in his eyes.

 

“Helping or being right?” He asks with a half laugh-half cough.

 

“Either. Get back to bed or I won’t be as nice about it next time.” I stand on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He’s still got a fever.

 

“Yes, Dr. Everdeen,” Peeta murmurs and shuffles to the stairs, calling back over his shoulder when he’s half way up. “I’ll ask my mom to at least pick her up this afternoon.”

 

I nod in agreement to the compromise and wait until he’s disappeared into his room. Satisfied, I spin around to find Karina watching me from the kitchen sink, carefully rinsing her bowl before putting it into the dishwasher. Something in her eyes makes me uncomfortable about how long I clung to her Dad. And the kiss.

 

“Let’s make our lunches and get going,” I say to cover any awkwardness.

 

Once we’re in the car, I set my phone to feed me directions to Karina’s school. She spends a few minutes talking herself through the presentation that goes with her project and I nod encouragement, waiting for the pauses to ask a few questions. She’s like Peeta, though. Unflappable when speaking. So I let her practice and listen to the phone’s directions. It’s a good thing I set it up because Karina’s so involved practicing her presentation that I almost miss a few turns.

 

When we reach the school, I wrinkle my brow at the blocked off entrance and the row of cars creeping forward in a line that winds around the lot to the front. Did I miss something? Early passes to ride or something?

 

“What’s wrong?” Karina asks when she sees my face.

 

“Gate’s closed.”

 

“Oh! You have to go around to the back road to get to the carpool lane.”

 

“I can’t park and help you walk in with that board?”

 

“You can,” Karina says and leans over the dashboard to point. “You just have to take the back gate and wait in the line until you reach the parking lot.”

 

“That’s dumb,” I mutter and Karina looks a little upset.

 

“I can walk it in myself if you want.”

 

I glance at her as I figure out where I’m actually supposed to turn, doing a double take at her down trodden expression. What just happened?

 

“I don’t wanna be a pain,” she says and fiddles with the zipper on her coat. Now I’m more confused than ever. Unless…unless she thinks I’m blaming her.

 

“Of course not! I’ll walk you in. I’m just so confused. Who designed your school’s drop off procedures? They need to have their head examined.” Karina smiles a little and I make the turn, stopping in the short line of cars waiting to reach the school parking lot. “You’re Dad would’ve told me what to expect if he hadn’t been so fuzzy-headed this morning.”

 

This seems to work and Karina resumes her stream of conscious talking. Finally, we reach the lot and park. As we walk towards the school, I smile at the preteen kids racing towards the building and shouting greetings to one another.  There’s a group of women standing by the front door with travel mugs of coffee in their hands, talking and watching the goings on. Two of them wear expensive slacks and designer heels, coats that look like they probably cost my entire rent, hair styled to perfection. The other two wear yoga pants, sneakers, and heavy jackets, but they make even that look expensive with their diamond earrings, high blond ponytails, and perfect pouty makeup.

 

They make me think of when my high school choir would put on a medieval themed holiday show. The sopranos dressed as high born ladies and took the role a little too seriously. That or of dragons hoarding their nest of treasure. I can’t decide which.

 

I suddenly feel inferior in my hiking boots and khakis, my heavy anorak lined with sheep's wool fleece. It might seem silly, but I look to Karina for guidance. This is her school and she’ll probably face these women again at some point. Really, I’m just hoping to walk right by without having to interact. 

 

“Good morning, Karina! How are you, sweetie?”

 

“Hi, Mrs Baker, I’m good.”

 

“Is that your wetlands project?” The woman reaches out with blood red talons and grabs the folded poster before we can answer. “Ginger had hers done days ago, she’s so excited to share. Oh yours looks so cute.”

 

“Thanks,” Karina says. “Katniss helped me with it. She’s an environmental scientist.”

 

“I hope she didn’t help you too much. It wouldn’t be fair to the the other kids if an adult did more of your project than you, now would it, Karina?” The talon lady lifts her eyes to me and gives me a cold smile. I barely refrain from using her own talons to gouge her eyes out. Who is this bitch? “You must be Katniss then. I’m Clove Baker.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, not backing down from her stare. Somehow I feel like I’ve been zapped back to middle school myself and am being judged on sight. I already dislike this woman.

 

“Your hair looks different today, dear. When did you start braiding it?” Asks the one in a snow white coat with heavy eye makeup.

 

“I just felt like it,” Karina tugs on the end of hers and my scalp tingles a little as it occurs to me she’s never really worn her hair in a braid.

 

“Hmm, I’ll bet you can get it looking lovely with a little practice or by adding a sparkly clip. It helps to have a woman show you how.” I resist the urge to touch my braid, which is probably subpar according to this chick, and the simultaneous urge to punch her.

 

“Where’s your dad, Karina?” Another one of the moms asks, craning her neck to look behind us as though he might have ridden in a separate car. 

 

“He’s sick,” Karina answers and shifts on her feet.

 

“Oh the poor dear,” the second woman gushes while the others commiserate. “I can stop by later to check in on him—“

 

“That won’t be necessary,” I cut her off and she stares at me wide eyed. Part of me wants to remind her that Peeta is a grown man capable of taking care of himself, but really the idea of this painted pixie fawning over him makes  _ me _ sick.

 

“Karina honey, the bell will be ringing soon,” Clove says and takes a sip of her coffee. Karina looks between the moms and me, uncertain. I place a hand on her shoulder and guide her past the hornets nest of judgmental parentage and inside the school. As soon as we pass the doors, she breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“Should I even ask what that was all about?” I mutter as we leave the office after I’ve checked in as a visitor.

 

“Ms Jacobs wants to kiss my dad, I think. She flirts with him a bunch.”

 

“Which one was that?” I ask as something heavy settles on my stomach. “The overly nosy one in yoga pants?”

 

“Yeah,” Karina says, ducking her head as she spins the combo on her locker and I hold the pieces of her project. “She’s not very subtle about it. I think Mr. Jacobs works a lot and she’s lonely. It makes Dad uncomfortable, but he won’t say that.”

 

“He’s too nice,” I say, trying not to gag as I realize what Karina’s just told me. That one of the school moms has her eye on an affair with Peeta. I console myself with the fact that she’s twelve and may have misinterpreted the signs. And the additional fact that the skank in question could easily pass for a doppelgänger of Peeta’s ex-wife, Glimmer. I doubt he’ll want someone like that ever again, especially not someone who’s already married. “Don’t listen to them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

 

But what do I know either? I doubt my own knowledge of my best friend’s wishes as I hug Karina outside her classroom and she juggles the pieces of her project to get it inside. I think of what he said last

night, that he shouldn’t have to ask me for help with Karina. He probably wouldn’t if he and Glimmer were still together. Maybe that’s what he meant and I was wrong this morning. He regrets not being able to make it work with Glimmer. 

 

I linger in the shadows next to the door, and despite the crowds of kids filing through, Karina hurries back out to me and throws her now empty arms around my waist. I don’t even hesitate before returning the hug. She’s so strong willed that I sometimes forget just how young and easily hurt she is.

 

“You look beautiful today and you’re so smart. You’re gonna blow them away with your project because  _ you do  _ know what you’re talking about and you worked so hard on it. Okay?” She nods with her face still buried in my chest and I give her one good squeeze before I let her go. 

 

“Thanks, Katniss.”

 

The shrill bell rings when I reach the front doors and I suck in a breath as I find the four women still in the same spot. I lift my chin and imagine that I am a cloud floating by them. Indifferent.

 

“So will we be seeing more of you around, Kathleen?” Clove the ringleader asks with a sneer. I pause and don’t give her the satisfaction of correcting my name.

 

“Well that depends,” I say.

 

“Oh?” Jacobs the skank asks. “I don’t think Peeta’s ever mentioned you. How did you say you’re related to Karina?”

 

“I didn’t say,” I remind her calmly. “And we’re not related...yet. Toodaloo!”

 

Unashamed at my false implications, I wave my gloved left hand at them to keep them wondering and glide towards my truck, relishing the look of surprise on Cheaterpants Jacobs’ face. She didn’t stand a chance anyways if she’s married. Peeta would never do that, but after the shitty way they spoke to Karina this morning, I want them all to choke. It’s a miracle I didn’t do it with my bare hands, but then I’d land myself in jail and frankly, they’re not worth it.


	6. December 5th - From Afar I've Loved You

“Someplace with no garlic,” Madge says and holds a hand over her stomach. Cinna lifts one perfectly groomed eyebrow. The Big Baby news is still under tight wraps, but with comments like that, Madge will be spilling her own beans.

“How about Sampson’s and Sae’s?” I suggest as we walk down the city block.

“Oh, that sounds good,” Madge agrees.

“Something light in the midst of all the holiday heaviness,” Cinna agrees with a nod.

The three of us draw a few odd looks as we walk. Madge in her flowing white dress over tights, blonde hair held off her face with plain barrettes, feet moving gracefully in her dark brown leather ankle boots. Cinna in all black, neck to toes, his brown curls artfully styled and the sunshine glinting off his gold eyeliner. And me in my cargo pants and Anorak coat with mud around my ankles. I had to finish a field assessment today and didn’t have time to change before I got back in town.

Once we’re settled at a table and our orders placed, Cinna gives Madge a soft smile. “When are you expecting, my dear?”

“What?” Madge asks and darts a look at me. I shake my head and Cinna tilts his to examine Madge.

“You’re rosy and avoiding garlic.”

“Oh!” Madge laughs nervously and snaps her napkin open before laying it on her lap. “Oh what the hell. July 8th.”

“A summer baby! Is Papa Gale thrilled?”

“Strutting like a peacock,” Madge says with a roll of her eyes. “Like he’s done something unique or difficult.”

“Congratulations, you knocked up a girl, just like billions of dudes before you,” I say with a mock toast to the empty seat at our table. Cinna gives me an odd look and I set my glass back down. I guess that could’ve come off as bitter. I just can’t get my mind off the things the Dragon Brigade said to Karina yesterday. All those comments about needing a woman to show her how to braid her hair and making her feel inferior. No wonder the poor girl’s been force feeding Peeta a steady diet of romance. She’s just trying to get him back out there so she can have a mother again. Not that it’s a bad thing if she does. Peeta deserves someone to love him. If anyone deserves romantic bliss, it’s him.

I scowl and grab a packet of crackers, smashing them in preparation for their role garnishing my cobb salad. I’m not much for socializing today, but Cinna and Madge are used to this and manage just fine without me. They cover the latest runway shows and the reviews Cinna received as “the new designer with the most potential for greatness” this season. It sounds like a backhanded compliment to me, but while I love clothes shopping with Cinna and I love the things he designs…I don’t know jack shit about the fashion industry.

I haven’t spoken to Peeta other than a few texts last night to make sure he was taking care of himself, and the guilt over what I said to the moms at Karina’s school has been mounting. I should probably warn him about it before they interrogate him. I’ve just been so swamped with work. Really, I should be running samples of mud in the labs right now and eating a protein bar or something instead of lunching with friends. With everything that’s been weighing on my mind, though, I couldn’t quite lock myself up when I had an invite.

“I mean, I want something soft green and maybe jungle animals. Not a bright green. Oh here, I’ll just show you. I’ve saved a bunch of stuff on a private Pinterest board,” Madge says and swipes her phone open then hands it across the table. On her screen, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face with beachy blond waves and my hand automatically shoots out to snatch up the phone.

“Why is Glimmer on your Facebook feed?” I nearly screech.

Madge looks just as confused as me until I tilt the screen back for her to see the damning proof. “I’m not sure.”

“Looks like she’s living it up in Barbados,” Cinna says as he stretches to see the picture. The acids in my empty stomach roil as I stare at her bombshell body on display. I can’t see her eyes behind the massive, gemstone studded sunglasses she wears, but the duck face pout, the shimmering peach bikini, and the name at the top are enough.

**Glimmer Cartier >>**

**Sun, Fun, and Son of a Gun!!**

The next picture is one of her perched on the lap of Cato Remington. Her body is twisted to give the camera a perfect view of his hands pushing up on her breasts and his tongue down her throat as they engage in what might approximate as a kiss if the goal of kissing were to find the other person’s epiglottis. I’ve seen more than enough, both literally and figuratively, and hand the phone back to Madge in disgust.

“I guess I never un-friended her after,” Madge says and I shake my head while she taps her screen a few times. “There. Fixed it.”

“Not your fault,” I murmur and Cinna places a hand over mine, giving it a steadying squeeze. “It’s just…mid-life crisis, anyone? Shouldn’t she be just a little more…”

I trail off and can’t finish my thoughts. _Upset. She should be more upset._ _It’s just that Peeta’s a wreck trying to raise their daughter by himself and she’s giving the shithead she had an affair with lap dances on a yacht and posting them on social media like she was never married, never had a kid, never broke Peeta’s heart, and never asked Peeta to take full custody so she could live her life, leaving the shattered remains of two lives in her plucked and tucked and diamond encrusted wake._

“You’re giving her far too much credit,” Cinna murmurs and my eyes fly back open.

“For what? Being an actual human being?”

“Come on, Katniss,” Madge says.

“Why are you two taking her side?”

“We’re not,” Cinna reassures me.

“What’s there for her to grieve? That marriage was dead years before the divorce papers were first drafted.”

“Yeah, because she was a cheating bag of silicone and liposuction,” I remind them. Madge stifles a laugh and Cinna rolls his eyes.

“No, honey. It was dead because they never had a good reason to keep it alive.”

“Karina,” I argue and glare when Madge immediately starts shaking her head.

“Kids aren’t always enough,” she murmurs. “Not if they’re the only thing holding the show together.”

I don’t get a chance to answer because our food arrives then, and I’m not sure what I’d say anyways. Madge should know. They already had four kids when she and Gale went through that rough patch. While we eat, I’m so lost in thought that the other two return to what they were talking about when I hijacked Madge’s phone. I’m still lost at the end of the day when I call Peeta to see how he’s feeling.

“Better,” he tells me and his voice, while still hoarse, does sound stronger.

“Can I stop by and make some stew for you?” I ask tentatively.

“That’d be amazing,” he says warmly. “Karina would love to see you, too. I think she liked having you around so much this weekend.”

I can’t help the stupid grin on my face as I make a quick mental shopping list and tell Peeta that I’ll be over in half an hour.

When I get there, Peeta opens the door before I can even shift my keys and the grocery bags to unlock the door.

“I do have a stocked pantry, you know,” he says.

“And you also have flu bugs,” I tell him and he shakes his head. I can’t tease him too much, though. He looks remarkably better. He’s still dressed for sleeping and lounging -- gray pajama pants, red Henley, and thick. But his blue eyes have lost that fever haze and while his nose and cheeks are still a little red, I’m in the house at least twenty minutes before he coughs once. I purposely keep my eyes north of the neck because nothing to the south suggests he’s been sick -- other than his attire -- and my thoughts wandering south is probably not a good idea.

 _Don’t touch it, Katniss,_ I remind myself.

Karina flies into the kitchen, grabs a yogurt from the fridge, blows me a kiss, and flies right back out with the phone pressed to her ear. “So wait, you think your Mom is pregnant again? That’s so exciting!”

I sigh and look at the ceiling. So much for secrets.

“Madge is pregnant again?” Peeta asks and I laugh humorlessly.

“No one is supposed to know yet,” I mumble and go back to work fixing stew. Peeta chuckles as he washes his hands and joins me.

“Yeah, but one whiff of garlic or anything even close to Italian food sends Madge running to bow before the porcelain queen. I bet they’re having pizza tonight.”

I watch him and wonder how he knows that detail about Madge. It’s an odd thing to know about her. Until I remember that Madge was pregnant with Meaghan the same time Glimmer would have been pregnant with Karina. The two couples met at a parenting or Lamaze class or something. Suddenly, I feel like an outsider, even though I’ve known Gale my entire life, Madge for eight years, and Peeta for seven. There’s an entire segment of their lives that I was never a part of.

“How’d the carpool lanes go yesterday?” Peeta asks then, drawing my attention out of the past and squarely back into the present. I snort and Peeta grins.

“What did Karina tell you?”

“That you experienced a fraction of my daily pain.” And just as suddenly, the doubt evaporates.

“Oh my god, Peeta,” I laugh. “How do you deal with them all the time? They’re like a pack of vultures.”

“Clueless man goes a long way as a defense,” he says and I snort again. I can’t help myself; I bump my hip into his and we naturally sway together as he chops the vegetables I brought and I brown the lamb.

“You’re too good for that act.”

“Trust me, I’ll use just about any tactic I can to avoid Lynette Jacobs’ idea of small talk. I even tried camouflage once.”

“Speaking of which,” I say and cringe in preparation for what I’m about to say. “I might have sort of implied to them that there was something non-platonic going on between you and me.”

Peeta stops slicing the green beans. Our eyes lock and I swear I can hear every word Karina’s saying to Meaghan upstairs on the phone. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” I whisper. “Karina mentioned that they made you uncomfortable and…”

“What did they say?” he whispers back.

“That they’re sharpening their talons and I’m road kill.”

Peeta bursts out laughing. Through the chortles, he pulls me into a hug and I drop my spoon to return it.

“Man, I would’ve paid to see that. They don’t know what they’re up against. You’re too fierce for anything they could dish out.” He steps back and cups my face in his palms. Just for a second before he steps away to cough. When he recovers, Peeta asks for every last detail. I might exaggerate a few things, and we quickly exhaust metaphors to describe the Dragon Brigade. When we do, we shift to talking about everything else. By the time the stew is ready to simmer, we’re both breathless and my cheeks ache from smiling so wide.


	7. December 6th - But Never Let It Show

**_December 6 th – But Never Let It Show _ **

My heels skid over a patch of ice and I grab the door handle of the nearest car. The blare of the car alarm startles me. I Jerk my hand right back, upsetting my delicate balance.

“Fuck!” I yell as my butt hits the pavement. Tears spring to my eyes and I curse the world for setting itself against me today.

It’s been one thing after another, none of it large but the summation of it all enough to make the day miserable. The water heater in my building went out this morning, so I had to take a cold shower. Ice crusted on my truck plus road construction made me late to work. In spite of my favored status with the boss, he laid into me seconds after I managed to make it through the office door. Then I stumbled and struggled through an important meeting with a representative from the Mayor’s office, had to skip lunch, and now I’m close to being late to meet Prim and my mother.

I shiver and stare at the run in my stockings and the speckles of blood on the side of my knee. Cursed things. I knew I should have worn slacks. This is what I get for trying to be something I’m not. I tried Cinna’s advice and paired a suit jacket with the dress for work and added jewelry for evening, but it clearly meant nothing. Even my coworkers kept commenting on my out of character attire, although Cinna assured me this morning when I sent him a quickie selfie that I looked “ _radiant_.” I struggle back to my feet and wince a little. Manage to reach my truck and climb inside. When the truck sputters before finally starting, I consider cancelling on my family and hiding at home.

In the end, I don’t cancel. I pluck up the last of my reserves and make a quick stop at a pharmacy where I purchase a fresh pair of pantyhose -- and use their bathroom to clean up the scrapes as well as change – and then I am on my way. I manage to make it to the restaurant only fifteen minutes late and grab the gift bag from my front seat.

“Hi, reservation for Everdeen,” I tell the hostess and she nods.

“The rest of your party has not yet arrived, but I can show you to your table if you like,” she says with a smile. I think it might be the first smile anyone’s given me today. I’m so caught up in the kind expression that I don’t even care that I stressed about being late and they’re not even here yet.

As I am escorted to our table, I surreptitiously check out the swanky place Prim picked for our annual December 6th Evergreen (Not Everdeen) Gift Exchange. It’s a long-standing tradition and her turn to host, but since she and Rory are having part of their house remodeled, she chose to hold it at a fancy-pants restaurant instead of in her home.

I pass the time shifting in my seat, trying not to hurt what I suspect is going to be an ugly bruise on my ass. By the time my mother and Prim arrive in a flurry of rosy cheeks, windblown hair, and apologies, I’ve rearranged the flatware twice, texted with Madge for a few minutes, checked my e-mail, and played three games of Candy Crush.

“It’s so cold out tonight!” Prim says and bends over to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

“Not as beautiful as you, Duck,” I say and she quacks at me before taking her seat. I laugh at the goofy noise, glad that she still plays along after all these years and medical school.

“No seriously, how do you do it?”

“Do what?” I ask.

“All of this,” Prim says as she waves a hand to gesture to all of me, but her eyes are already focused on the menu that’s been sitting at her place for the past millennia.

“I still don’t follow,” I say and my mother’s lips thin with mild disapproval, probably at my tone of voice. Sometimes I think she resents me for stepping up when Dad died and she was struggling with depression. Guilt or self-doubt over her abilities as a mother, I really don’t care.

“You always have things under control,” Prim says and smiles up at me. “I feel like I’m driving five hundred miles an hour in the fast lane and have no idea what I’m doing but you’ve got your life all put together. Your apartment is perfect, your career is solid, you’ve got so many friends who love you.”

“I’m not that put together,” I protest and Prim laughs.

“Really? When did you pick out your gift?” I glance at the bag on the table and shrug.

“Three weeks ago,” I tell her and she nods as if this proves her point.

“I figured out mine twenty minutes ago. I also had to buy wrapping paper and tape on the way here and wrap them in the parking lot.” My mother nods and takes a calm sip of water.

I try to wave it off as inconsequential. “You’re a busy doctor.”

“And I can barely keep my patients straight,” she says and rolls her eyes. This leads into a discussion with Mom and I slide down in my chair. I don’t have everything together. Not even close. I want to scream and beg for a hug. I practically got hypothermia in the shower this morning, fell in the parking lot, pissed off my boss and maybe botched my career’s future, can’t walk in heels, and I’m in love with my best friend who’s too busy raising his daughter and keeping his own life together to feel that way about me.

 _Shit._ I’m not in love with Peeta… Am I?

No no no, I tell myself. He’s kind, funny, generous, loving, and undeniably handsome. But so is a dog. Sure I had that dirty dream about him once. Or maybe twice. And I do love spending time with him. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him, does it?

The waiter stops by and I order a glass of wine because I think I need it.

“Anyways, I told Rory that if we can’t handle a pet, we definitely can’t handle kids yet,” Prim says, bringing me back into the conversation. I hadn’t realized how long I’d spaced out for. “So this is him. I named him Buttercup!”

Prim shows us both a picture on her phone of the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen. Yellow with his face squished in, and half of his left ear missing.

“You adopted a cat?” I ask dumbly.

“Yes, silly! Weren’t you listening?” Prim moves on quickly, leaving me to extrapolate what little I did hear and pick up enough now that I _am_ paying attention.

“He was on his own for a few years before the shelter picked him up, very self-reliant they said. So I’m hoping that the problems he causes us will convince Rory to wait a little longer for kids. I mean, I already forgot to feed him this morning and Rory texted me a picture of the mouse Buttercup caught instead!”

I’m not sure I follow my sister’s twisted logic.

My mother and sister carry the conversation but I’m useless. They take it as a sign that my life is problem free, Prim once more gushing that she’s sure there’s nothing I need but here’s my December 6th gift as she shoves the messily wrapped package with no tag on it in my hands.

I pass my gift bag to my mother while she hands Prim a slim box with a pretty bow on top. I run my hand over the holly print paper of my gift and think of my dad. He started this tradition one year when we were so broke we couldn’t afford a tree, or any of the holiday trappings, let alone presents for each other. Everything seemed so dark and dismal that year until he came up with an idea. There had to be _something_ each of us could part with and someone else in our family might enjoy. We searched and selected carefully, then exchanged gifts. It didn’t matter that we didn’t wait until Christmas day. Sometimes joy shouldn’t have to wait.

My father gave me his watch, my mother gave Prim a silk scarf that was her mother’s. I gave my mother a set of marbles that she turned into a necklace. Prim gave our father a fancy mirror he used to shave every night for the rest of his life. And every year since then, on December 6th, we repeat the tradition. Even though we’re down to three Everdeens.

How I wish he was here.

Prim is already fastening the locket around her neck and my mother is admiring the sterling silver picture frame with a snapshot of Prim and I on a beach a few years ago. I carefully open a corner and blink at the red knit material inside. Pinching a bit between my fingers, I rub it to marvel at the softness. A scarf maybe. Then pull it out in one long red stream that splits in the center, confused about what it is until two feet dangle in front of me.

Socks. Thigh high, knit red socks. With a tag still attached to them.

I’m not sure what use I have for these since I rarely wear skirts, especially not in winter. Still, I thank Prim and summon some nice words about the material being luxurious. I think about remaking them into a scarf, but I’m not very handy with a needle and thread. Prim is. I can’t ask for her help and insult her, though.

After the exchange, we split a crème brulee, Prim picks up the tab, and we share hugs before heading to our respective cars. Or rather, Prim drives Mom to the house she now shares with Gale’s mom before returning to her own warm bed with Rory, and I plunk my sore ass into my cold truck alone.

All I can think about while I wait for the truck to warm up is how relaxing and wonderful last night was compared to the shit show of today. What I really want is to drive to Peeta’s, curl up in his side with his arm around me, and whine about my day until he somehow finds a way to make me laugh. He always does.

But I’ve already taken up so much of his time this past week and there’s my weird thoughts at dinner to contend with. I drive myself home instead and trudge upstairs, and wash the makeup off my face. All my pajama pants are dirty, of course, so I scrounge up a pair of shorts and a thick sweater. Shivering, I make myself some tea and glare at the red socks. They’d at least keep me warm.

“Fine,” I tell the night and yank them on, twisting my legs to scowl at them and make sure they know I’m not happy about this. Then I sigh because I know I’m being unfair. I snap a pic of myself in the mirror and send it to Prim, curl up on my window seat with my tea and watch the stars as they twinkle overhead. My phone interrupts my peace and I glance at the text from Prim.

_You rock those socks!_

I smile weakly and close out my messages, staring at the faces on my lock screen. It’s a picture of the day I went sledding with Peeta and Karina, all of us making goofy faces, laughter in our eyes and snow in our hair. Without thinking too much about it, I call him. He answers on the third ring.

“Hey! I was just thinking about you,” he says, his voice all warm. I can feel my body relaxing under its magic. “How was the gift exchange?”

“Prim adopted a cat,” I say and Peeta laughs, begging for details. I relay everything to him. From my brush with hypothermia this morning to the questionable red socks. Peeta laughs with me, asking questions in all the right places and knowing when to crack a joke to help me let go the stress and see the humor. This is why he’s so important to me, I remind myself when my stomach does a small flip and my libido decides to make another unwanted appearance. Because he’s always here for me. He gives me hope that no matter how bad the day or the week or even the year is, at the end of it there is laughter, love, and a chance for life to be better than it was before.

“Wait, so you’re wearing the socks now?” he asks.

“It was that or freeze,” I tell him. “You have got to see things. They go halfway up my thighs. Hold on.”

Peeta sucks in a sharp breath as I move the phone away from my ear. A few taps and swipes and the picture I sent Prim is on it’s way to Peeta. I hear the chime on his end that means he got it, and then silence.

“Peeta?” I ask.

“Those are…some kind of socks,” he says and chuckles.

“I look ridiculous,” I say.

“I uh, actually no. You look warm,” he murmurs. His voice caresses through me and suddenly, I am exceptionally warm. Not good. I’ve been so careful about keeping my rogue thoughts about him out of our friendship and here they are slinking back to the surface, tickled there by things in his voice that I know I must be imagining. “Very warm.”

I shiver. Flex my fingers in my lap and lean one temple on the cold glass of my window.

“I am,” I whisper, uncertain where to turn us next. I know the road to the right. It’s brightly lit with laughter and trust, friendship and comfort. All the good things I associate with Peeta. The road to the left curves sharply so that I cannot see what lies beyond the bend.  It tempts me with promises of what it could be – the same as the other only with pockets of immense, secret pleasure and promises of eternity. It frightens me with the risks. It could turn into a tangled trap of thorns and brambles that ends only in loneliness and pain.

I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.

“I’m also falling asleep,” I say and Peeta concurs.

“We both need to get to bed. Early alarms and all that,” he says, his tone brighter than just a second ago.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Sweet dreams,” he wishes me before he hangs up, and I’m terrified that that is exactly what my dreams will be tonight.


	8. December 7th - Always Watching

**_December 7 th – Always Watching_ **

“Knock, knock!” I shout as I struggle to get my key out of the door. I’m stuck in that weird limbo between the warmth pouring out the open front door and the frigid wind at my back.

“We’re upstairs!” Karina shouts and I finally manage to free my key and shut the door. I shake violently with one last chill and quickly divest myself of my coat and winter gear. The scent of their dinner still lingers and my stomach growls. I had to stay at work late tonight, although I wasn’t the only one. The entire office is scrambling to complete tasks and get our deliverables in before the end of the work year. Technically that’s not until December 31st but with the number of people who take time off during the last week and a half of December, we all know it’s actually closer to the 20th.

As I climb the stairs, I catch a voice I don’t recognize and follow it to the open door of Karina’s bathroom. And you might as well drop me on a roll and call me butter for the way the sight that greets me makes me melt.

Karina leans over the vanity, chin resting on her hands, elbows on the Formica top. She watches Peeta intently, her gaze flicking down occasionally to his phone, which is propped up against the mirror and the source of the strange voice. He’s too engrossed in what he’s doing to even acknowledge me, but I know it’s not an insult.

_“Now just keep repeating that step. You’ll add more hair to each section as you work your way down to the nape.”_

The furrows in his brow deepen as he follows the directions, Karina’s wavy blonde hair filling his hands, a comb clenched between his teeth. The sleeves of his dark green sweater and the dress shirt underneath pushed up to just below his elbows.

“Pause it, please,” he mutters around the comb, and Karina taps the screen to pause the video while Peeta keeps going with the French braid. “Okay. Unpause.”

_“Now once you reach this point… if you’ve got hair past the nape of the neck, you finish with a regular braid.”_

“That’s easy!” Karina says and Peeta nods. I watch, a little stunned as his hands fly to finish off the braid.

“Ta-da!” He says and the comb drops from his mouth. Karina giggles and he smiles at her in the mirror. Then at me. “Good thing we’ve been practicing that one.”

“We’ve _both_ got the hang of it now,” she agrees and hands him a rubber band. He ties off the braid and picks up a can of hair spray.

“Awoooga! Awqoooga! Prepare for Aerial Anti-locomotion Application.” He shouts and Karina giggles again but then they both take deep breaths and hold them. He sprays her hair, puffing his cheeks out until his eyes bulge comically. Karina bursts out laughing and Peeta sets the hair spray aside. “I think we have…a masterpiece. Only took three tries.”

He picks up a hand mirror and shows her the back of her head. Karina bites her lip and tilts her head as she examines the intricate braid.

“Something wrong with it? We still have time to fix it,” Peeta says and Karina shakes her head.

“Katniss, what do you think?” Karina asks.

I share a brief look with Peeta and slowly dig through the small basket of hair accessories on the vanity. I find a small tail of green silk and pull it out, holding it up for Karina to see.

“Finishing touch?” I ask and she nods eagerly. Without thinking, I tie the ribbon into a bow over the rubber band and step back. I bump into Peeta in the crammed space and worry hits me. I shouldn’t have just stepped in like that. I should have asked first.

His hand rests on the small of my back as Karina turns her head to and fro, inspecting her hair. Finally she nods.

“Perfect. Thanks, Daddy!”

“Anytime, Kare-Bear.”

“Can we try the fishtail one next?” she asks eagerly, and he nods.

“Yeah. We’ll try it this weekend. Go get changed,” he tells her, and Karina leaves the room, humming as she dashes back to her bedroom.

She leaves an awkward pocket of air behind her. The room crackles with unspoken words and uncertainty. wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew the way forward without breaking something.

“Was today better than yesterday?” Peeta asks and I nod, unable to unstick anything resembling words from my parched throat. I tug on my plain braid for something to do with my hands. “Good. That’s good. I know Karina invited you to come tonight, but if you’d rather skip out—”

“No. I want to go,” I insist. “I was promised some water-based cocoa and stale cookies afterwards, and you know how I feel about free food.”

“Even if the quality doesn’t meet your exacting standards?” He gives me a heart-stopping, sweet smile. I almost change my mind and run before I do something stupid like beg him to take me now. But I promised Karina I’d be there tonight.

“So when did you become an expert at French braids?” I ask instead of continuing my dangerous line of thought, although this new one isn’t much safer. There’s something undeniably sexy about everything he’s done since I walked into this room.

Peeta runs a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. He can’t meet my eyes and the awkward feeling intensifies. I wonder if he somehow knows what I did last night after I got off the phone with him. If it’s written all over my face, the way I touched myself and imagined my sock clad thighs wrapped around his hips.

“After you told me about what the moms at school said, I may have watched a few hours of YouTube tutorials on every way to braid hair imaginable. I don’t mean to brag, but I can put together a pretty mean ponytail.” He smiles, and I can’t help but return the expression. It fades quickly though as his eyes turn serious. “She’s never asked for a braid before, though. We’ll get there. I just wish she’d felt like she could ask me instead of having to put up with that crap.” He drops his eyes and stuffs his hands in his pockets. I reach out and cup one hand over his cheek. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to mine and doesn’t look away this time.

“You were sick. You’re an amazing father, you know that?” I say. His lips part and he takes a breath, as though to speak when –

“Dad! Where’s my sweater?” Karina shouts. I yank my hand back and Peeta’s eyes shut, lips smiling although the expression isn’t one of joy.

“Hanging up in the laundry room!” he shouts back and Karina thunders past the bathroom. He glances at his watch and tugs on the sleeves of his sweater. “We should get going. The parking lot tends to fill up pretty quick.”

“Okay,” I tell him and head back downstairs with him right behind me.

We bundle up and pile into Peeta’s car. I twist in my seat to look back at Karina. Her bright smile is infectious, especially when she begs Peeta to turn up the volume on the Christmas songs playing on the radio. We fill the drive to the school with singing along, and since Peeta actually knows what he’s doing, we’re in a prime parking spot before we’ve managed even three full songs.

“See you after!” Karina says cheerfully when we reach the school entrance, already skipping away from us.

“Hey! Did you forget something?” Peeta calls with laughter in his voice. She turns back and throws herself at him. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. “Knock ‘em dead, Kare-Bear.”

He lets her go and she flings her arms around me too. “Bonne chance, Karina,” I say and she giggles.

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s French. It means ‘Good Luck,’” I tell her and she smiles. Then she’s gone.

I feel Peeta’s eyes on me and blush under his scrutiny. Maybe it’s the night, or maybe it’s the stress of the holidays and everything that’s happened in the past week, but when my eyes meet Peeta’s, I swear there’s something in their blue depths that I’ve never seen before.

Or it could be my red sock fueled wet dreams and my imagination playing tricks on me. I cough slightly and shrug. “My Dad’s mother’s family was French. He used to say it to me before my choir performances.”

Peeta’s lips curl up in a slow smile. But the crowd is thickening and we need to get seats, so we don’t have time to talk.

Even though Peeta warned me they’d be here, I still feel a kick of anger at the sight of the Dragon Brigade, primped to perfection and holding court off to one side of the school auditorium. I square my shoulders as we approach them. At the last second, Peeta leans over to whisper in my ear.

“Remember, we’re madly in love. So feel free to kiss me any time you feel like it.”

My laughter drowns out theirs for a second, erasing their self-pleased smiles as I turn to Peeta. We’re still moving through the crowd, but my hand brushes his and I lace our fingers together. He gives my hand a squeeze and we leave the Dragon Brigade behind.

We have to let go of one another to take our coats off when we find seats, but as soon as the house lights dim, his hand covers mine on top of my thigh. I weave our fingers back together and keep my eyes focused on the stage as string quartets, small choral groups, and brass ensembles take the stage to play their pieces then leave to enthusiastic applause. At some point, his thumb caresses over mine then back to its original position. Once.

My throat constricts and the music is momentarily lost to me. He’s held me in his arms, kissed my temple, and yet he’s never held my hand before. I wonder if this is part of the act for the Dragon Brigade, but they can’t see us in the dark auditorium.

It’s such a simple, innocent touch.

I want another.

Swallowing back my fears, I let my thumb glide beneath his over his first finger. Up to the second knuckle and then back down. Peeta shifts in his seat and I think maybe I’ve pushed too far. Or jumped to an erroneous conclusion.

But then his thumb caresses again. And doesn’t stop.

Not until Karina takes the stage, her steps faltering for a second right before she sits down at the piano. Peeta lets go of my hand to dig his phone out of his pocket and record her performance. He sets it up then holds it low enough so that he can watch her and not the screen.

The audience falls quiet as the first notes of _Greensleeves_ dance gently through the auditorium. Karina sways slightly as she plays, entrancing and lovely. I wince when she misses a note but she forges onwards, fingers moving confidently despite the error. Resting my head on Peeta’s shoulder, I can feel it welling up inside of me, the same thing I would feel when Prim was younger and competing in science leagues, dancing recitals, or playing flute solos with the school orchestra. I have no claim to feeling this for Karina, and yet it’s there.

I’m still trying to convince myself it’s not real when Karina’s solo ends and she stands to take a bow while the audience applauds. Peeta’s easily the loudest but I’m a close second. And when the noise settles for the next performer and Peeta’s phone is back in his pocket, our hands wind up joined on top of his thigh this time. For the rest of the performance, I don’t let go of Peeta’s hand.


	9. December 8th – Never Reaching

I prefer work days that send me out into the field. Deep into the woods of state owned land that’s protected and nurtured. A place where people can visit for short amounts of time, but the destructive rumble of their permanence is blessedly absent. My tasks today take me longer than normal, well into the afternoon. I pause at each of my observation points to breath in the crisp winter air and enjoy the pristine winter landscape spread all around me.

I grew up with these woods. My family lived right on their borders in a tiny house that was probably too small for the four of us, but there are worse ways to grow up. These trees were my refuge, my quiet thinking place, and they welcomed me with a type of nurturing I could find nowhere else. Not with my father gone and my mother checked out on life and Prim’s cheeks growing hollower by the day.

Ironically, I survived by breaking laws that are the foundation of my current job. Dozens of them. Illegal hunting and scavenging. Trespassing. I don’t know how long I could have kept it up, but I thankfully didn’t have to find out. A wealthy uncle I’d never met before, with a heavy case of PTSD from Vietnam and a penchant for crafting insults, swooped in and saw to it that I’d never have to break another law in the name of survival, and Prim would never have to start breaking them. Eventually, the whispers grew about Haymitch marrying my mother. Anyone with two eyes and half a brain could see that they tolerated each other more than anything else, and nothing ever came to fruition between them.

Today, the woods are failing to yield an answer like they usually do. I finish my last log book entry, take a deep drink of the tea in my thermos, and then climb back down to solid ground. Once I have my gear packed up, I drive into town. The closer I get, the harder it is for me to ignore the nagging thoughts in my head. I’m more confused than ever.

After the performance, Karina joined us for cocoa and cookies in the cafeteria with the other families. Peeta and I never left each other’s sides and while we didn’t hold hands, there were an unusually high number of times his hands brushed some part of me. My arm, my back, my shoulder. The tiniest touches stroked nerves deep beneath my skin until I was strung tight as a bow.

 _He’s my friend_ , I tried to argue with myself. _I’ve known him for years. Why was this only happening now?_

I searched for a reason behind my feelings, discarding that erotic dream last year as a fluke, but I kept returning to the one thought that held the potential to hurt the most.

I’m in love with Peeta.

I have all the classic signs. Trouble sleeping, strange appetite patterns, butterflies in the stomach, foolish thoughts and desires, filthy dreams, a sense of complete calm and belonging when I’m with him, the need to see him happy.

And I had no idea how to tell him, or if I even should. There always exists the real possibility that this is a one-sided emotional hiccough in our friendship.

So when we made it back to his house, with a tuckered out Karina, I used her exhaustion and my early morning as an excuse to leave. To make things easier on us both. I needed space to think or a decent night of sleep to clear my head, but I got neither. Instead, I spent the night tangled in my thoughts and fears about what it all meant.

It’s a bit of a drive to get back into town and even then, I’m still no closer to an answer when I finally reach the office. It’s already late afternoon and my lunch did not provide enough calories for the kind of hiking I did today. I barely have time to drop my gear and plunk down in my chair before Johanna Mason is hauling herself up onto my workspace.

“Avoidance isn’t a good look on you, Everdeen,” she says and grabs a candy cane out of the mug sitting on my desk.

“Some of us actually do our jobs instead of making the interns do it,” I return and she shrugs.

“I’ve got no desire to freeze my tits off in this weather. Also, Plutarch’s been looking for you all day.”

“It’s posted on the board where I was going to be today. I had my phone on me the whole time. He could’ve gotten ahold of me if he really needed to,” I say as I set my field laptop on the desk and open it.

“Maybe,” Johanna says and crunches on the candy cane. She’s an annoying bitch sometimes, but she knows her stuff. I also have to grudgingly admit that while her methods leave something to be desired, she’s really good about keeping track of the gossip and passing along the important tidbits. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been aware of big changes before they hit our department thanks to her.

“What’s going on, Johanna?”

“I’m not sure you’re interested, Everdeen,” she says. Her brown eyes narrow at me and she taps the candy cane on her chin thoughtfully. “Information this good is gonna cost you.”

“Fine,” I huff in annoyance. “What do you want this time?”

“Is that friend of yours still single? Blond, hot, and tragically divorced?”

“He’s got a kid, Jo,” I remind her and clench my fists.

“All the more reason for him to get fucked and sucked then left in peace,” she declares. I narrow my eyes at her and shake my head.

“You usually go for leather clad biker dudes. Peeta’s closer to wholesome Disney Prince. What gives?”

“Hey! It’s Christmas! I’m trying to stay on the Nice List.”

“By suggesting I set you up with my best friend?”

“Well he is a Good Boy, isn’t he? Bet he can put in a good word for me with the Big Guy. Ho! Ho! Ho!” she says cheerfully then gives me a wicked grin. “Besides, even if it gets me coal for Christmas for the rest of my life, it’ll be sooo worth it. God can you imagine the passion of someone that pent up and deprived? And… _he’ll_ think it’s nice. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you. Ho, ho, ho.”

“Then maybe _you_ should do the sucking and fucking,” Johanna says, flipping absently through the calendar sitting on my desk, her eyes not meeting mine. I smack my hand down to stop her prying and glare at her.

“Get out,” I say. “I’m not in the mood for your mind games.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Can’t blame a girl for trying to help,” Johanna says and finally leaves. Before she makes it out of my cubicle, though, she spins back around and drops the real bomb. “There’s a rezoning meeting next Monday for the Blue Bell Lake area. Just thought you’d be interested.”

“What?” I ask and spin around in my chair, but Johanna has already left, cackling at something she’s said to Octavia that she no doubt finds hilarious, but that makes everyone else around her uncomfortable. I move to follow her but Plutarch cuts me off in the cubicle entryway.

“Katniss, we have a crisis,” Plutarch says. I hold back a sigh. Everything is a crisis with this man. Partly because he’s actually unqualified to hold this job. His background is in communications and public relations, not the environment. But the Mayor thought that the parks and wildlife departments could use “a facelift” so we got stuck with an entertainer who thinks every little setback requires maximum drama.

“Blue Bell Lake,” I spit out and he smiles.

“Oh good! You’ve heard. Now we need to figure out how to spin this to the public so there isn’t a major outcry against progress—”

“Progress?” I ask. “You call demolishing two hundred acres of protected forest and wetlands progress?”

Plutarch purses his lips and I must have been shouting because a good portion of the office falls quiet.

“The state needs the money,” he tells me.

“The state needs to pull it’s head out of it’s ass,” I tell him and he frowns at me. Usually I’m less blunt when he’s got a stupid idea. My job is to make him look good at his job or to not fuck it up royally. “Find another way.”

“If you’ve got one, I’m listening,” Plutarch says and waits for an answer. But I don’t have one. Not off the top of my head. I’m an environmentalist and a biologist, not an accountant. I can feel the fight inside me with no direction to channel it. “You’ve got a week before the vote. Come up with something.”

He murmurs the last of it and pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. I try to pull myself together, to not take this development as a personal attack. There’s no way Plutarch could know what that place means to me, after all. I flop back in my chair and focus on what I can solve right now. I punch numbers and notes into my spreadsheets and shake off the feeling of hopelessness that threatens me. Working here is a constant fight against budget cuts, people who don’t care, and those who want to tear the world apart for profit.

I keep working until my neck and back aches. It’s only the loud vibrations of my phone as it rings that pulls me from my data-induced stupor.

“Hello?”

“Katniss, I am so sorry to bother you,” a somewhat familiar and formal voice says. I pull my phone back and check the name to make sure I’m not imagining things. Yep, I’m not. The name _Felicity Mellark_ graces my phone screen.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Mellark,” I tell her. “I was about to pack up and leave work anyways. What’s up?”

“You’re still at work? Oh, you poor dear.”

“Just finishing up a few things,” I brush off her concern and scratch at my hairline, trying to figure out her angle. I can’t even remember if Peeta’s mother has called me before. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually. I hate to trouble you,” she says and I grind my back teeth to keep from demanding she just spit it out.

“How can I help?” I manage to sound courteous.

“A friend of mine is stuck at her house and needs a ride to an appointment. I have Karina and would prefer not to drag her along since I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m afraid Peeta’s tied up at the bakery until late with two of the workers out sick with the flu. You know how busy they get this time of year.”

“Of course,” I say, already saving my work and packing up for the evening. It’s already close to six anyways and I’m one of the last people here.

“Could you possibly come get Karina and take her home?”

“On my way, Mrs. Mellark,” I assure her. It’ll be good for me anyways. Time with Karina will distract me from my work concerns.

“Wonderful. And please call me Felicity.”

_Please call me Felicity?!?!_

I repeat her words in my head as I drive towards her home and knead the steering wheel nervously. Something is up with that woman. I still don’t know everything that happened with her when Peeta was younger. All I know is that when I met him, his parents were already divorced. His father would show up unannounced with a new piece of ass on his arm every time, and Peeta’s mother was a tight lipped, uptight in general, borderline harpy.

Peeta always spoke of his mother as being cold during his childhood, but said that as the years apart from Mr. Mellark lengthened, her personality warmed, and with it, so did her relationship with Peeta. Now he says that his father made his mother miserable while they were married, so she made everyone else miserable. I still don’t think that’s a good excuse, but it’s Peeta’s business if he can forgive her. While I still think she’s formal and a little cold, there is no denying her complete adoration of Karina.

When I get to the small house Mrs. Mell—er Felicity lives in, she’s already got her car running in the driveway and warming up. Karina hops out of the car and into my truck, slinging her bookbag on the floor boards. I roll down my window as Felicity approaches with a smile.

“I’m afraid we didn’t have time for supper,” she tells me.

“That’s fine,” I tell her. “We’ll get something and maybe check on Peeta. See if we can take something to him.”

For some reason, this makes Mrs. Mellark beam. It’s going to take some time for me to start thinking of her as _Felicity_. “Have fun girls!”

“Bye, Gramma! Thanks for everything,” Karina waves and Mrs. Mellark blows her a kiss. I roll up the window and look down at my phone to call Peeta. When I look back up, Mrs. Mellark is giving Karina an exaggerated wink and Karina giggles.

“What’s so funny?” I ask her, and Karina sobers.

“Oh nothing. Just a little joke Gramma told me about a rabbit and a turtle. Or was it a tortoise?”

“Okay,” I say and then have to focus on driving and talking to Peeta. He insists he’s taken care of but that I am more than welcome to take Karina out for dinner. He’ll pay me back, he says. I roll my eyes and don’t bother arguing with him. I’ll just conveniently forget the receipts and how much dinner cost.

By the time I hang up, Karina has a notebook and a few loose pieces of paper out of her bag and is focused on reading something on them.

“Hey now, it’s Friday,” I tease. “No homework.”

“This isn’t homework,” she says cryptically and then falls silent.

“Okay,” I say again, wondering what’s in the tea Mrs. Mellark makes. I wait for Karina to elaborate but she doesn’t. “So anywhere you want to go for dinner tonight?”

“How about The Greasy Spoon? We could get soups for dinner and complain about their subpar bread, then go get a slice of gingerbread cake at the bakery for dessert and see Daddy.”

I chuckle at her words but flip on my blinker to head east towards The Greasy Spoon. “Sounds like a plan.”

My questions about her day at school go largely unanswered as we drive, her attention clearly engrossed with whatever she’s working on in her notebook. Eventually I give up trying, but when she brings the notebook into the restaurant, I can’t hold back anymore.

“What are you working on there, anyways?” I ask once we’ve placed our order and the server’s already dropped off two mugs of hot cocoa.

Karina glances at her notebook then up at me. She seems to be considering something very serious and finally leans across the table towards me.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“I’m very good at keeping secrets,” I whisper back. She narrows her eyes and examines me suspiciously. I try not to laugh. Whatever this is must be important to her.

“Maybe you can help me. You are Dad’s best friend. So…I figured out the perfect gift to give my Dad for Christmas this year,” she whispers.

“Really?” I ask and cross my arms on the table so that we’re almost nose to nose. A smile tickles at the corners of my lips at how seriously she’s acting when she drops a bomb on me.

“A date,” she says with a sage nod. “And not just any date either. One he’ll actually let me meet.”

My stomach hits the floor but I remind myself not to jump to any conclusions just yet. “Oh?” I ask curiously.

“He went on dozens of dates at the beginning of the year, but I didn’t get to meet a single one of them. Not one!”

“He was protecting you, Karina. In case things didn’t work out,” I tell her and she scoffs.

“That’s what he said, too. But if he’s gonna marry her, she’ll be my step-mom. Shouldn’t I get a say?”

“Of course,” I struggle for words. This is something she should be talking to Peeta about, not me. It feels all wrong. “If he meets someone he wants to marry, I know he’ll want your opinion. Have you talked with your Dad about this?”

“A little,” she says and scribbles something in the margin of her notebook. “He said he didn’t see the point in dating anymore. He has me and that’s more than enough.”

“Well there you have it,” I say. It makes perfect sense to me, but Karina shakes her head.

“He’s lonely, Katniss. I know he is. If I could just find him the right lady to go on a date with, I’m sure things would work out. I just can’t figure out why none of the others didn’t.”

“It’s not that simple,” I tell her. Then something occurs to me, the words of Clove Baker at the school and a few other hints that don’t mean much unless you add them up. “Are you sure it’s just your Dad who’s lonely here?”

She bites her lips and stares at her hands in her lap. My heart thuds dully as she sighs. “I kind of wanted…a Mom.” Her admission cracks my heart wide open. “I mean, Daddy is great. I know he loves me and all I just…I don’t know. It’s silly, I guess.”

She shuts the notebook and pushes it away from her. And I know I can’t just leave her hurting like this. I rest my hand on the book and wait until her blue eyes meet mine.

“Can I look?” She nods and I flip open the notebook and gasp. “Karina!”

“I had to account for all the variables!” she insists and I want to yell at her but I’m not sure I can. That’s advice I gave her one time when we were working on her science homework earlier this year. Now she’s applying it to real life.

“So you hacked into your Dad’s online dating accounts?” I ask and pick up the print out in front of me. It’s one of Peeta’s dating profiles. A picture of him at the bakery, lists of character traits, hobbies, desires. Karina has circled sections and written notes on each one.

“Well he’s not doing anything to help himself! He had forty messages on this one site alone!” She snatches back one of the profiles, exasperation evident in her voice. “He hasn’t logged into any of them since June!”

“How did you--?”

“Gramma let me use her internet. He has really easy security questions,” she says and I clench my teeth. The wink now makes sense, although I have a hard time picturing Mrs. Mellark playing matchmaker for her son.

“What exactly were you planning to do?” I ask and give her my best look of disappointment.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” she whispers and I sigh.

“Oh Karina, I’m not mad. I’m just worried about you. This was a dangerous and kind of nosy thing to do. There’s no telling who these women really are! You didn’t respond to any of them, did you?”

“No. Do you think he’s ashamed of me?” she asks in a small voice. The question shocks me.

“What? No! Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just, these ladies who messaged him all seem nice and I don’t know what he thinks he’s protecting me from. So he must be ashamed of me. That’s why he never let me meet any of them.”

I stand and slide into the booth next to her, wrapping my arms around her. She buries her face in my shoulder and hugs me back.

“He’s protecting you from getting your hopes up, Karina.” I caress over her hair, still in the French braid of last night. “He didn’t fall in love with them, so he didn’t want them to meet you if there was no chance that he’d want to marry them. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so,” she mumbles. We sit there for a moment before she lifts her head. “Do you think any of them fell in love with him?”

“I don’t know,” I say cautiously.

“Because I was thinking…maybe if we spruced up his profile a little, you know, spring cleaning kind of thing, that might help.”

“I don’t—” I try to argue but she’s already turned back to the papers.

“I mean, he’s got a picture of himself at work. They might think he’s a workaholic. _A-and_ less than half of the boxes are filled. How’s anyone supposed to know what he’s really like from that? He sounds…boring.”

“Maybe you should put that on there. ‘My daughter thinks I’m a boring Dad.’”

“But he’s not!” Karina protests. “He tells really silly jokes!”

“And makes great cupcakes,” I remind her, and Karina nods.

“And gives really good hugs.”

I shouldn’t encourage this, though, so I try once more to stop her. “You should talk about this with your Dad, you know.”

“I know. I will. I just want to have something useful to show him first.” We engage in a staring contest for a few minutes, broken only when the server brings our bowls of soup. Karina doesn’t yield, turning her pleading blue eyes on me as soon as he’s gone. “Please, Katniss. You’re his best friend. You know him better than anyone. I need your help.”

I hesitate. It feels all wrong, invading Peeta’s space and manipulating his life like this. Not to mention that my first reaction is to tell her to butt out because I’m still trying to figure out my own emerging feelings for Peeta. But faced with Karina’s concerns, and tempered with her lack of suggestion that I date her father, my own fledgling desires crumble like a stale cookie. If Karina hasn’t considered me as a possibility for her Dad, then I don’t stand a chance. If that’s the case, the least I can do is help her help him find happiness.

“Let me see,” I offer and hold out my hand for the profiles again.

“You’ll help me?” she asks, clutching the papers to her chest.

“I’ll try,” I promise and she smiles.

“Thank you, Katniss!” Karina hugs me again and then excitedly shoves the profile in my hands. “I was thinking the best place to start is his description of what he’s looking for in a partner.”

I spoon some soup into my mouth and read the section she’s pointing to.

_To start with, someone who’s willing to take a risk on a previously discarded pastry puff with a mini pastry in tow._

I suppress a snort and shake my head. He goes on to talk about wanting someone who can laugh at the idiosyncrasies of life and occasionally nudge him out of his comfort zone to enjoy adventures. “We can’t change this.”

“Really?” she asks, wrinkling her nose. “It’s so…vague.”

“No, it’s perfect,” I say as I scan the other sections. I’m a little surprised at how open and honest Peeta was with himself. In each of his answers, the real Peeta shines through. The man who can find exactly the right thing to say – ironic, encouraging, a little funny, and at no one’s expense except maybe his own. No wonder he had forty messages sitting in his inbox.

Karina’s shoulders slump. “Oh. I was sure the problem was his dating profiles. Then why wouldn’t someone want him after they met him?”

She rests her chin in her hand and stares into her soup. I rub my palm over her back and try to reassure her. My choices have become less clear, more twisted. I look at the paper again, searching for a shard of hope to give her. “We could maybe add ‘Braiding hair and telling terrible jokes’ to his list of skills.”

“Oooo!” Karina says with a grin. “We should add ‘losing his keys’ to his hobbies, too!” I chuckle a little, glad that Karina’s got the idea behind what makes Peeta’s answers so appealing.

“Eat up,” I encourage her after she’s made her notes. “Then we’ll go see him ourselves. Maybe it’ll give us some more ideas.”

This seems to perk her up a little bit and we talk about the goings on at school and with her friends for the rest of the meal. In the car, she shifts to asking what sort of things I’d put on my dating profile, if I had one. When we get to the bakery, her mood visibly improves. She loves coming here as much as I do. The bell chimes and a wave of delicious scents rolls over us. We both sigh and check behind the counters. Then through the widow through which the kitchens are clearly visible.

“Hey Peeta! Your family’s here!” someone shouts. Karina links her arm through mine and waves at Peeta. His smile when he sees her could light the world. For just a few seconds, everything seems perfect. So of course, that’s when reality hits. I’m not, nor will I ever be, a part of their family. Not really. My chest aches with the hollow feeling left behind, and I have to blink a few times before I can smile back and pretend like nothing’s wrong.


	10. December 9th – Blue Is Where I’ve Been

On Saturday, I arrive at the Blue Bell Lake area before everyone else and spend a few hours trekking alone through the woods, pausing to take pictures with my old camera I had to dig out of my closet. I’m not a photographer. I have no idea if these pictures will turn out well, but the truth is, they’re more for me anyways.

My father used to bring me here, year-round. He taught me of the bounty to be found in the earth and how to harness it, how to survive. When she would accompany us, my mother showed me how to slow down and appreciate the beauty. After my father died, I had to put his lessons to practical use rather than just recreational. For years, I’ve forgotten my mother’s lessons, too occupied with surviving and then succeeding in my career. Now that this place is in danger, all of it comes rushing back. I’m not willing to let this place go without a fight.

By midday, my toes are numb but I’ve got a hazy approximation of a plan and make my way back down through the foothills towards the lake. When I arrive, several of the others are already there. Peeta has a decent blaze going in one of the fire rings and Gale is red faced, making some comment about getting it started for Peeta to finish. I roll my eyes and ignore Gale’s macho posturing. Peeta lets it slide off his shoulders, instead talking quietly with Karina and guiding her in shifting the logs to maximize the heat for cooking.

Madge and Gale work to prep the meats they’ve brought while their entire brood has already started skating patterns across the silver surface of the lake. Prim and Rory haven’t arrived yet. I stand on the outskirts of the small group and think of all the years we’ve done this, a winter picnic here at the lake, and how this small family has grown.

Family. I think of family and my eyes are drawn immediately to Peeta and Karina. I wonder if they’ll still join us if he finds someone new.

“Hey, Catnip!” Gale shouts, bringing my attention to him as I join the group. “Whatcha bring us?”

I set my bag on one of the tables and pull out two foil wrapped potatoes. Karina grabs two more out of my bag and we hand them to Peeta to set in the coals. Meaghan calls out for Karina to join her on the ice, leaving Peeta and I the closest we’ve been to alone in days.

“Get any good pictures?” he asks as I remove my camera from around my neck.

“A few,” I say. He stands close and looks over my shoulder as I toggle through the images. He marvels over a few of them and rubs his hand over my back. The motion is soothing, and needed after the gradual build of pressure and stress that I’ve been shouldering. “They’re okay.”

“That one of the mountains with the hawk…that’s incredible.”

“Thanks.” I put my camera back in my bag and hope he gets the hint to drop it. I’m not ready to talk about the destruction of my childhood.

“Katniss, I was wondering if we could talk soon?”

“We’re talking now,” I say and rub at my temple, tugging my knit cap back down into place while I look anywhere but at Peeta.

“I meant…alone.” This gets my attention. We both look around us. The kids are all busy, and Gale has now joined them on the ice, Madge standing along the shore drinking from a thermos and snapping pictures with her phone. When I meet Peeta’s eyes again, he looks almost afraid.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, shoving my gloved hands in my pockets.

“About the other night…” my fists clench inside my pockets. His words hollow out my chest again. He’s going to let me down gently and I’m not sure I can handle it. After my conversation with Karina, I was hoping we’d just never speak of it again. I doubt want his pity.

“All that hand holding, and you didn’t even bother to call me the day after,” I joke. Peeta blinks for a moment and then laughs. The sound warms me right down to my toes.

“What can I say, I’m a scoundrel,” he says.

“Did Karina talk to you last night?” I ask, steering the conversation away from treacherous waters. He shakes his head in confusion.

“About what?”

“Getting back out there,” I say, gesturing towards the world at large, and Peeta stops laughing.

“As in… dating again?” We stare at one another. One second, two, three, four… “No, she didn’t. Did she say something to you?”

I huff out a breath and look over to where Karina is skating. She seemed so determined last night, I was sure she’d take the first chance to talk to Peeta about finding him the perfect date. I guess I’ll need to have another talk with her and make sure she’s not planning something stupid, like actually answering those women online for him.

“What did she say?” Peeta asks again. His face pales when I don’t answer immediately. “Katniss, what did she say?”

“I promised to keep her secrets.”

“I already told you I have my clueless man act perfected,” he says with a lopsided smile.

“Alright,” I concede, mainly because I’m worried about Karina. “She’s got it in her head to set you up with a perfect date for Christmas. Someone you could eventually marry.”

“What?” he asks, halfway laughing until he sees that I’m not laughing. “You’re serious.”

He shifts on his feet and stares across the ice at his daughter. The kids’ laughter and shouts to one another echoes in the frosty air. Gale shouts at his son to let go of his sister. Next to us, the fire crackles and the silence between us grows.

“Shit,” he finally mutters and I look down at my toes, draw lines in the mingled mud and snow. “You know, after you mentioned it last week, I started noticing things she’s say or do, started to think you were right. I suspected maybe she was getting at something like that, but I thought she meant – does she really think I’m doing that bad of a job? As a parent?”

“It’s got nothing to do with that, Peeta,” I say, because it doesn’t. Her wanting a mother has more to do with her need for something resembling what they once had, not because of any shortcomings on Peeta’s part. “She’s worried that you’re lonely.”

I focus on Meaghan and Karina as they spin on the ice, holding hands. I can feel his eyes on me, boring into my scalp, and when I look back up at him, his mouth is set in a grim, determined line. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Is she trying to set you up with someone too?”

“No, of course not,” I say, appalled at the idea. “I’m perfectly happy with my life. Besides, it’s not like she’d have any luck finding someone willing to love a thirty-two year old spinster.”

“More luck than you know,” he says then shifts before I can formulate a response. “But you both think _I_ need someone? And that my twelve year old daughter will be able to find a someone willing to take a thirty-two year-old, divorced single dad with a daughter about to be a teenager?”

“I didn’t say that, it’s just…”

“It’s just what, Katniss?”

“Maybe you _should_ try again. Not just for Karina, but for yourself.” The words cost me a lot. Even more when he turns back to the fire, muttering.

“I’ll think about it.”

After that, we focus on the meal. Our words are guarded and short. Madge and Gale provide a buffer as well as a distraction. Prim and Rory widen the buffer when they arrive. When the group finally gathers around the fire to eat, Karina keeps looking nervously between us, as though she can sense the tension. For my part, I try to act as though nothing is amiss when she’s around. Peeta’s doing a better job. But I know the shades of his eyes and can tell that something is still bothering him.

Eventually, the sun begins to dip. We gradually migrate towards the fire, sitting on the benches hewn from logs. I stretch my feet towards the flames and watch Peeta as he adds more logs. Madge and Meaghan pull out their guitars and pluck Christmas songs from the strings.

Karina grabs Peeta’s hand when he’s done with the fire and sits next to me, crammed into my side with Peeta wedged on her right. She wiggles until we’re wrapped in a tight bundle of arms and torsos on the bench, her head resting on Peeta’s chest. She hums along to the songs while the Hawthorne kids start a boisterous chorus.

If only more people could see the lake this way, I think as I look around the circle. Maybe then, the park area wouldn’t bee in danger of being mowed over to make room for a gigantic shopping complex when we already have one. Panem barely has the population needed to support one, to say nothing of two.

As the night is winding down, I risk a glance at Peeta. Our eyes meet for just a second and then his dart away to stare into the fire. I look down at where Karina’s and my arms are twined together. Just like I would do with Prim. My mother. And my father when he was alive.

I smile as my hazy plans begin to take better shape. I’ll need help with it, but luckily, I have people I can count on to stand by me.


	11. December 10th - Green Can't Buy Me You

On busy days, Peeta’s bakery rings with the merry sounds of voices. Customers conversing, the spirited shouts and laughter of the employees. Today, it’s packed to almost overflowing and bustling with activity. I call it his bakery, but it technically belongs to his older brother. With three locations, each run by one of the three Mellark brothers,  _ Mellark’s Bread and Coffee _ counts as a chain, but only just.

 

When Gale left Panem for college, we both expected that would be the end for us. His eyes always on the horizon, focused on lofty goals of wealth, success, of never having to scramble for food or money, Gale didn’t plan on returning here. Scholarships got him out of this town and well on his way. For my part, I couldn’t afford to leave. Instead I earned my degrees through a combination of local college courses, online when I could, and commuting to Capitol City, an hour up the road. Neither of us were good about keeping in touch once we were separated.

 

After half a dozen years of making a name for himself, though, Gale came back with a handful of fancy degrees, a wife, two kids, and an accessory family. Somewhere in the small talk of getting to know each other, Peeta told me that Gale’s plans to return to Panem to take a job with a fledgling tech company — and to look after his aging mother — lined up with Peeta and Glimmer’s need to get away from a bad situation. So when Madge suggested expanding Mellark’s bakery into Panem, Peeta took a risk and followed his childhood friend and her husband here.

 

In the end it paid off, I think as I look around at the crowd. After-church older ladies in elaborate hats sit sipping coffee and indulging in cake or pastries. Kids with hot chocolate at their elbows follow along with Rue as she teaches them to decorate reindeer cupcakes. Festive music plays as an undertone to the noise of the crowd. Mellark’s quickly become a popular spot to socialize and a hub of our small city. I love this place, and my cheeks warm as I take in how well Peeta’s second home is thriving.

 

I pause on the threshold of the kitchen and watch as Karina carefully cuts shapes from a sheet of gingerbread cookie dough. Beside her, Peeta’s focused on frosting the already baked cookies. The scent of the currently baking batch mingles with the other scents in the kitchen. Today is supposed to be one of his days off, but instead he’s here with his daughter, working to help me. Warmth fills my heart and I shift the box in my hands.

 

“Hey!” I say cheerfully.

 

“Hi, Katniss!” Karina greets me and I get a quick smile from Peeta. “Did you bring the stuff?”

 

“I did,” I say, sliding the box into the counter. “I’m not sure what good these will do.”

 

Peeta sets aside his piping bag and wipes his hands on his apron before plucking one of the 3” x 5” cards from my box. He smiles at the picture for a moment before flipping it over and reading the printed words on the back. I hadn’t wanted to, but Peeta insisted my pictures that I’ve taken at Blue Bell Lake over the years would make great eye catchers. Each card has a picture of the lake area on the front. On the back, information on why it’s important to save the lake, steps the buyer can take to help us, and a trivia fact about one species that calls the area home.

 

“They’re great. It’ll help get the word out. Darius didn’t give you any trouble did he?” Peeta asks and I shrug. Darius runs a print shop in town and moonlights as a volunteer sheriff. When I asked, he readily agreed to print up our info cards free of charge.

 

“Nah, he owed me a few favors anyways.”

 

“That doesn’t stop him from being an impossible flirt,” Peeta says, handing the card back to me. Our gazes hold for a few seconds longer than is strictly necessary for handing off a measly notecard, but I can’t look away. Not when he looks...perturbed. Could he be?

 

I brush it off. I have more important things to worry about than trying to analyze every one of Peeta’s expressions. I don’t have time right now to figure out if he could ever reciprocate my feelings for him when I’ve got a lake to save. He’s already cost me sleep.

 

His words at the lake yesterday didn’t register at first.  _ More luck than you know _ . But they came back to taunt me when I lay alone in my bed last night, keeping me awake and periodically distracting me from a steady roll of plans and actions I’d need to take to help save the lake.

 

I’d been right about my friends. As soon as I told them last night about the rezoning, they expressed first outrage and then a fervent desire to help. Gale’s working the policy angles since his job brings him constantly into contact with the Mayor and several members of the city council. Madge is working the social circles to spread the word and drum up support with the town’s populace. Peeta and Karina offered the bakery as a base of operations, and it was Peeta who came up with the idea they’re enacting now.

 

“What’ve you got?” I ask and Peeta ushers me over to his work station.

 

“So far, we’ve got white tailed deer, a few wolves, birds of various species, a couple oak leaves, pine cones, and,” he says with a flourish before lifting one of the cookies to show me. “A mockingjay.”

 

“Not bad,” I take the cookie and examine the small details Peeta so carefully included.

 

“We did research!” Karina tells me.

 

“It shows,” I say and bump my hip into hers. “These are really great.”

 

Peeta turns and grabs a box from beneath the counter, plunking it down next to the finished cookies. “If you’re not busy, you could start bagging them and adding the cards.”

 

It’s quiet, absorbing work but somehow the pair I’m working with turn it into something fun. When I’ve got about fifty cookies bagged and tagged, Peeta and I carry them out front and place them in a large basket near the register. Beside it, he sets up a chalkboard with a hand drawn rendition of the lake and hills in the background, complete with snow and children skating on the lake. It must have taken him at least an hour to finish. We stand back to admire the finished display.

 

_ Blue Bell Lake Rescue Cookies $3, All proceeds to fund Panem Ecology and Conservation Efforts. _

 

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

 

“What’re these?” a woman asks almost immediately. Peeta briefly explains to the woman about the planned shopping center and how part of the protected park is being razed for it. He’s so good at talking to people, I get a little distracted watching him.

 

“Katniss is the expert, though. She can tell you all about the area if you’re interested,” Peeta says, bringing me out of my stupor.

 

I falter for a moment but once the woman sees my picture of a doe grazing, she wants to know more. After buying a couple of the cookies, the woman leaves and I’m feeling pretty good about our efforts. I settle at a table near the display in case anyone else has questions, opening my laptop to work on setting up an online petition and a few other things Gale suggested we do before the vote.

 

As the day wears on, though, interest in the cookies dwindles until I’m starting to despair. I’ve only talked to a handful of people and a few of them turned their nose up or scoffed at my efforts.

 

Right before closing, Peeta checks on me. I shove my right hand between my thighs to hide the fact that I’ve been biting my nails again. It’s a nervous habit I never outgrew.

 

“How much did we raise?” I ask before he can say something sweet.

 

“Probably about fifty dollars.”

 

“That’s it?” I ask, my voice a desperate squeak.

 

“Hey, it’s only the first day. It won’t happen overnight, and we won’t give up, okay?” Peeta says, somehow knowing exactly what I need to hear. He pulls me up out of the chair and I fall into his arms. I rest my cheek in his chest so I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. His hands rub up and down my back, both soothing and warming me. The coldest winds might howl outside but here in Peeta’s arms, I know I’m safe, supported, and loved.

 

_ Loved? _

 

The thought stops everything else as Peeta pulls back to smile at me. I suppose Peeta does love me, but in what way, I can’t be sure. I lean towards him, craving another embrace or something.

 

“There’s a couple hundred of the information cards in back, so I’ll keep the basket stocked all week. Those will be the only gingerbread cookies we make for awhile, okay?” Peeta says, derailing my train of thought. It’s a good thing, too. Because it’s only as I put distance between us that I realize how close I was to kissing his jaw.

 

“Okay. Thanks for doing this, Peeta,” I nod and Peeta tugs on my braid. 

 

“Always,” he says. I feel an echoing tug in my gut.


	12. December 11th - Silver Bells Remind Me

_ Dashing through the snow! In a one horse open sleigh! _

Who rides in an open sleigh in winter? I wonder as I slide onto the elevator, my coat still buttoned tight and my sheaf of dwindling leaflets clutched in my arms. My cheeks burn with the cold and I stopped knowing where exactly my ears end about two hours ago. The constant shift between the hot of interiors and the frigid temperatures outside will probably get me sick, but I don’t have time for that. I’ve been in motion all day.

_ Silver bells! Silver bells! It’s Christmas time in the city! _

I glare up at the speakers in the elevator playing jolly holiday music. It’s Monday and I am five minutes away from murder at any given moment. This building can’t seem to play the same music throughout, making my anger boil at unreasonable levels. Finally, the bell sounds and releases me onto the floor that is my destination.

_ Hark how the bells! Sweet silver bells! All seem to say! Throw cares away! _

Seriously?

I channel my anger to straighten my shoulders and march into the viper’s pit. Also known as the Chamber of Commerce. Gale warned me that they’d be the hardest bunch to bring on board, but lucky for me, I’ve got a friend here. I didn’t even remember Leevy until Peeta reminded me.

“Katniss!” she smiles and leaps up from her chair, a curled cord trailing from her headset behind her to her desk. “Is this it?”

“Yeah,” I say and hand over the last of our brochures.

“I was thinking about this all morning after you called,” Leevy says as she sets the stack in a box labeled  _ Distribute  _ on her desk. “John Brutus has that huge stretch of land out west of town that’s been sitting unused and undeveloped since he bought it from the Calhoun Mining Company. Maybe if we presented the Lawrence Corporation with an alternative location to build their mall on, they’d leave the state’s land alone.”

“An alternative…that’s helpful, Leevy,” I say through my scarf before tugging it down to speak more clearly with her. I’m not sure her first suggestion will work. The state will undoubtedly undersell Brutus, but the idea is sound. “Think you can make the meeting on Monday to raise that issue?”

“As long as the boss doesn’t decide to overhaul the office or redo the filing system again that night – oh I gotta answer,” she motions towards her headset as the phone on her desk starts ringing. “Chamber of Commerce. I’m sorry sir, he’s not in today and I’m afraid he won’t be back until after Hanukkah… December 21 st , sir.”

I wave to Leevy and gesture that I’ll call her later to finish talking land alternatives. The mismatched music makes me cringe once more as I leave the building and head back to my own around the corner. Fish and Wildlife exists in a rinky-dink corner of the municipal buildings, but it’s dressed up with gleaming silver bells on all the windows, tied together with deep blue bows that teem with birds in flight and fish leaping in rivers. The decorations are decades old and beyond cheesy, but my heart still melts a little at the sight of them.

Johanna’s waving at me, but her phone is attached to her ear. I’m not sure what she wants, and frankly, I’m not ready to deal with her today. Our Monday morning staff meeting had barely started before Blue Bell Lake took center stage. My efforts this weekend felt meager compared to the mobilization happening here now. Cecilia even pulled out her old rolodex and started cold calling everyone she knows in the city with the intent to pack the halls on Monday with dissenters.

Their reaction worked wonders to lift my spirit as I realized that I won’t be in this alone.

“Good news, the park rangers are as pissed as we are. They’ve got all kinds of ideas but I gotta go down there to talk out a few details with them. You got any more of those brochures? I can take a stack with me to the rangers and they can hand ‘em out over the next week.”

“I just gave my last few to Commerce,” I tell her. “But I’ll call Darius and have him print up a bunch real quick. You can pick them up on your way over to the station.”

“I love it when a plan comes together,” she says with a grin. “And don’t forget, Caroling on Main Street tonight would be a good time to spread awareness. Have Hot Biscuits bake up some more of those gingerbread cookies and bring along with his gorgeous self for some eye candy.”

“His daughter’s almost a teenager. All those hormones to deal with,” I remind her and jump when she leans over to whisper in my ear.

“Your discouragement is feeble shit. That kid is the cutest brat ever and has you wrapped around her pinky. Make your move soon, Brainless, or I’ll turn on the charm. Karma stupidly blessed you with two fine pieces of ass for best friends and even if you’re too dumb to take advantage, I’m not. See you later alligator!”

“Gale’s married!” I shout when she’s halfway across the room and manage to get my constricted throat under control.

“Blondie isn’t!” she sings back before ducking out the door. Am I that much of an open book? If Johanna’s figured out my feelings for Peeta, then who else knows? I huff and then notice the unnatural quiet in the office.

“What?” I snap and glare at all the eyes that are now watching me. They return to work and so do I, picking up the phone to call Darius.

“You’re running out of favors to cash in on, Kat,” Darius teases when I tell him what I need. “Pretty soon,  _ you’re  _ going to owe  _ me _ .”

“It’s for the good of the environment,” I remind him.

“Yeah, yeah. My services don’t come cheap.”

“How much?” I ask, suppressing a sigh.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t charge anything you can’t afford,” he says and I stiffen at the innuendo in his voice. “You’ll even enjoy it. I have it on good authority that I am an excellent kisser, although I’m willing to produce references if you like.”

I laugh and once more garner attention from my coworkers. “I’m already familiar with your extensive resume. Half of them dish weekly down at the Hob.”

Darius chuckles and promises to have another stack ready for Jo when she gets there.

It’s more of the same thing all day long, a mixture of my regular work and frantic tasks for the lake. Around two in the afternoon, I pause to send good vibes Karina’s way. She had planned on asking the teacher for ten minutes to talk to her class about the lake today. I hope it went well for her.

By the time five thirty arrives, I’m already exhausted and yet the day isn’t over yet. Usually, Caroling on Main Street depresses me a little, a reminder of all the times my Dad led a small choir of miners in singing on a street corner. Before the accident that killed him and led to the mines shutting down. Afterwards, the town had to reinvent itself and so did I. Everything changed with one little spark.

I shake off the morose feelings and find a parking spot a few blocks up the street from the bakery. As I make my way through the crowd, several people stop me to ask about the lake and express concern. By the time I reach the glowing windows of Mellark's, I’m feeling hopeful. Even more so when I notice the basket near the register is only a third full.

“Katniss! We have to go get some of those roasted mushrooms! Remember them from last year?” Karina leaps off the stool where she was sitting, abandoning her sketch pad. “I’ve been thinking of them all day.”

“We will,” I tell her. “Where’s your dad?”

“Talking to Madge. Can we go now?” I crane my neck and find them at the other end of the store, separated by the counter. Peeta’s eyes are strained, as though something Madge is saying upsets him. My instincts urge me to go to Peeta, but Karina shouts to him that we’re leaving and tugs me out the door, before I’ve barely had a chance to wave at him.

“Oh my gosh! It’s beautiful!” Karina says and pauses every few feet to admire the windows. I’m struck with how much like Prim she is in this moment. I stand back and watch Karina’s face shine in the soft lights spilling from the windows of stores and the glow of the lights strung around streetlights as decorations. I can’t bring myself to remind her that they do this every year; her joy is too innocent and pure to taint with adult reminders like that. Instead, I stand back and let her savor the night.

Until we reach a boutique store where Karina grabs my hand and pulls me up next to her. We stand there, faces pressed against the glass as we admire the blown glass decorations and vibrant poinsettias in the window display.

“Oh! We need to go inside!” Karina says. Before I can protest, she’s ducked through the door, leaving me no choice but to follow.

“Karina, we still have to find those mushrooms,” I remind her.

“In a minute,” she says. “I have to find a gift for Dad.”

“The other one not working out?” I ask and stuff my hands in my pockets.

“Well I don’t know yet. It’s a work in progress,” she says as she examines a shaving kit with a leather case. She wrinkles her nose and moves on. “Anyways, I was thinking that if I did manage to get him  _ that _ , he’s going to need a new cologne or something.”

“Cologne?” I ask and freeze. Karina nods and picks up a tester bottle from a shelf. “Why?”

“I dunno. My mother always used to complain that he didn’t wear it anymore. She said that he ‘let himself go.’ So if he’s gonna be romancing someone, he should probably start wearing it again.”

“Oh,” I say, when what I really want to say is, “Your mother is insane.”

I can’t say that, though. This is the first time I’ve heard Karina talk about Glimmer since the bimbo decided she’d had enough of playing mother. Actually, I know very little about the minutiae of their daily lives leading up to the divorce. Peeta and I never talked small details about how his relationship with Glimmer ended. We covered big details and I provided distractions from his troubles.

An unplanned pregnancy led to a hasty marriage when they were nineteen. When Karina was eight, they realized they barely knew one another anymore and started counseling. Glimmer insisted they attend couples’ sessions as well as their own individual sessions. While Peeta believed things were improving, Glimmer had been skipping her individual therapy to meet up with Cato in Capitol City. When Peeta found out and confronted Glimmer, she told him she never wanted to marry him anyways, hated living in Panem, and it was past time they got a divorce. Afterwards, Glimmer absconded with her lover and his yacht. A year later, she informed Peeta that she never wanted to be a mother either and dropped her partial custody claims, handing sole custody of Karina to Peeta. 

But it’s not like Peeta would relay a blow by blow of each of their disagreements and counseling sessions to me. I guess when your life's falling apart before your eyes and you’re still trying to hold it together, you don’t want others to know how splintered you are. 

“What do you think?” Karina asks and holds the bottle under my nose. I gag and she yanks the bottle back. “Okay that’s a solid, ‘No.’”

“I’m sorry,” I sputter. “It’s just…scent is very personal. Your body chemistry and natural scent can alter it too, you know. So even if you find something that smells good in the bottle, it might not smell right on your Dad.”

“Good point,” Katrina says and then waves at the gentleman working in the shop. “We need an expert.”

“Mushrooms?” I ask feebly as he walks over.

“How may I help you ladies?”

“I’m looking for a cologne for my Dad, and I’m not even sure where to start,” Karina explains.

“Well what sort of man is your Dad? Outdoorsman? Urbane? Sophisticated or more relaxed?”

“What would you say, Katniss?” Karina turns to me and so does the man behind the counter. I look between them and shrug helplessly. The last thing I want to do is help Karina pick out a cologne for Peeta to wear on a date. I don’t want to be an accomplice in encouraging someone else to bury her nose in the crook of his neck and breath deep before kissing the source of the scent and licking up his throat to get him hot so the scent strengthens and deepens and why am I thinking like this in front of his pre-teen daughter?!?!

Karina bites her lip and gives me those pleading blue eyes. Ugh.

“Well he’s a baker,” I start pathetically and Karina rolls her eyes, as though telling me that I can do better than that. “Not really an outdoorsman but not really urbane either…more of an artistic and fun-loving dad.”

That sounds so lame, but the gentleman works with it, offering a few samples for Karina to sniff. I’m starting to get a headache and my stomach is growling over the mushrooms it’s being denied. When Karina shoves one under my nose that is way too heavy for Peeta, I shake my head and words tumble out of my mouth.

“You know, I’ve always thought he smelled amazing without cologne. Maybe we should keep looking, Karina,” I grab her hand, thank the man, and basically run from the store. On the street, I gasp in a lungful of fresh air and exhale in a giant cloud of steam, grateful to be out of there. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Karina says and when I turn to offer a better apology, she’s smiling slyly. “There they are!”

Mushrooms distract me, and then Peeta joins us, distracting me further from Karina’s strange behaviors. We stop in several of the stores and check on the spread of news for the lake, enjoy the hot cocoa and food sold by street vendors and the local shops, listen to the carols. We stand for the longest time in front of the bell choir, listening to the resonating chimes, clear and beautiful in the night. 

Throughout it all, the topic of conversation is Blue Bell Lake and how little notice the city and state give the public about their plans, how wrong that is, and what we can do to change their course. Talk won’t be enough, but it will hopefully lead to actions. At least a couple dozen people Peeta and I talk to promise their support next week at the council meeting.

It’s been a good night, exactly what I needed to unwind after the hectic day. I’m not yet ready for it to end, I realize as Peeta and I watch Karina and a few of the other kids from her school launching snowballs at one another. Eventually, though, Karina starts to yawn.

“Let’s get you home, Kare-Bear,” Peeta says, wrapping one arm around her.

“I’m not tired,” she insists.

“You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she concedes dramatically. “Katniss should come too, though. Just for a little bit. I want to show her my entry for the art contest. And you’ve got that batch of cheese buns you wanted her to try out today.”

“Sure,” I agree automatically. “I’m parked on Elm.”

“We’re on Oak. Meet you there?” Peeta says and I nod.

It takes me longer to get out of the downtown area than I expect, since a few people stop me along the way – Leevy and Johanna among them. Everyone seems optimistic about our chances of saving the lake, and while I can’t deny that support is already incredible, I’m not ready yet to risk having my hopes destroyed by raising them too high.

Peeta and Karina are already home by the time I arrive, and I slip quietly in through the unlocked garage door, pausing in the laundry room to remove my snow boots.

“-- wanted to ask your opinion since it affects you too,” I hear Peeta say. They must be in the kitchen. “I should have last time, I know that. I guess I just wasn’t sure if you were old enough to understand.”

“What is it, Daddy?”

“What would you think if I went on a date this Friday?”  _ That fast? _ I want to yell but bite my tongue and freeze. “It’s not definite yet; I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I’m okay with it.”

“Okay,” Peeta says.

“Who is she?” Karina asks eagerly. I know I should announce myself and stop eavesdropping, but my feet have rooted to the floor.

“Well she’s a friend of Madge. Actually, Madge has been wanting to introduce us for a awhile now, I’ve just been putting her off. We’ll see how it goes. So do you want to stay with Gramma or Katniss while I’m out? I was thinking Gramma—”

“Wait. Katniss?” The way Karina says my name, I’m not surprised by Peeta’s next question.

“Yeah. I thought you loved spending time with her.”

“I do! I mean it’s just – I don’t know, Dad. How much do you know about this woman? Maybe you should talk on the phone or something first. Isn’t it a little soon to be meeting her? What if she’s a serial killer?”

“She’s an old school friend of Madge’s,” Peeta says. “I doubt she’s a serial killer.”

“Okay but how do you  _ know?”  _ Karina asks pointedly. “What do you actually know about her?”

“Her name is Penelope and she works as a ballet instructor and – what? Why are you shaking your head?”

“Penelope? She sounds a bit flaky to me, Dad.”

“If you don’t want me to do this, it’s fine, Kare-Bear. Just tell me. You don’t have to insult a complete stranger who’s not here to defend herself.” There’s still a note of humor in his voice, but only just.

“No, it’s fine,” Karina says, a slight upwards whine in her voice. I can tell they’re both getting agitated and tug off my second boot.

“Okay,” Peeta says hesitantly. “I’ll ask Gramma if you can spend the night with her and then I’ll—”

“Spend the night?” Karina screeches, and honestly, I can’t blame her. My rational brain knows that he’s suggesting a sleepover so that Felicity gets more time with Karina and can sleep comfortably in her own bed, but logic flew the coop at the first mental image of Peeta wrapped up in bed with a leggy blonde.

“Now what?” Peeta asks. He’s out of patience, but so is Karina.

“Nothing!” she shouts, although she’s sniffling too. “You’re just – you’re – you’re ruining  _ everything! _ ”

Loud footsteps pound across the house as Peeta calls after her, then up the stairs as I manage to unfreeze my feet and slip silently into the kitchen. Peeta turns back around and startles when he sees me at the same instant Karina slams her bedroom door.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I was just…snow boots.”

“You heard?”

“Most of it,” I admit.

“I should…” he points after her and I nod.

“Unless you think she needs some time to cool down and think.”

“Yeah, that might be better. I’m just so confused right now,” Peeta says. He pulls out his phone and taps out a few words, erases and then shakes his head before trying again.

“What do you need?” I ask, coming up behind him and winding my arms around his waist. I rest my cheek on his back and avert my gaze when I see that it’s a text to Madge. Not before my brain registers the words, though.

_ Too soon. Maybe next month. _

“I think I need a distraction,” he says and I nod.

“Where are those cheese buns Karina mentioned?”

“Would we even be friends if it weren’t for my buns?”

“Probably not,” I squeeze him once and search the fridge for some goat cheese while he pulls out the already prepped rolls.

“You won’t need that,” he tells me and I lift one eyebrow at him.

“Why not?”

“Just trust me,” Peeta says and starts up the oven. “These buns need no embellishment.”

“You’re speaking dirty, Peeta Mellark,” I say. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

He laughs and rests his forehead on mine. With his eyes closed, I can take the time to drink in his features.

“Thank you, Katniss.” Now my eyes slide shut and we stand there, breathing in harmony. 

For the next few hours, we talk and lounge on his couch. I devour half a dozen cheese buns that definitely don’t require spreads of any kind. I’m not sure what he did to change them from the standard Mellark’s recipe, but whatever it is was clearly a stroke of genius. 

Peeta does check on Karina once, twice, and says she’s fine now that he’s told Madge “not yet” to the date with Penelope. Still, Karina’s behavior doesn’t jive with all her talk of dating profiles and cologne purchasing, unless she’s already got someone in mind for Peeta. But then why the talk of sprucing up his dating profiles? Maybe I can coax it out of her tomorrow since I already promised to help her. At least that would save Peeta some headache and confusion.

I feel so relaxed and warm that all my worries about Karina and the lake begin to melt away as we sit there. We’ll just keep working, like Peeta said, and somehow it’ll be okay. I must fall asleep. At some point, I dream that a fairy dressed in silver covers me in a blanket. Around midnight, I wake up sprawled across Peeta’s chest, my hips cradled between his spread thighs and his arms wrapped around me, a blanket covering us both. I have no idea how we wound up this way, and while I know I should leave, he looks so relaxed and peaceful that I can’t bring myself to wake him. So I rest my head on his shoulder and fall back asleep.


	13. December 12th - That Mistletoe's for Two

Work is hell.

Not because of Blue Bell Lake, though. Efforts along those lines are progressing nicely. I’ve been fielding phone calls all day from people around the city wanting to know how they can help. Gale and Madge both claim to be making headway in their fronts. Peeta’s been sending a steady stream of texts to keep me updated on the downtown businesses who’ve pledged their help. A lot of them don’t want another giant shopping center since it will cut into their business. Plus, Panem has always had this atmosphere somewhere between podunk town and major city. Whatever their reasons for helping, I don’t have the luxury of being choosy about our allies.

Nor do I have the luxury of thought control or memory erasure, which I desperately wish I did possess by the time lunch rolls around. Now, at the end of the work day, I’d trade both my kidneys and my spleen for that superpower.

When I woke this morning, it was to warmth and a blissful feeling of contentment that was vaguely connected to Peeta. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew that it’d be one of those mornings when I’d have to pry myself out of the comfort of my bed. Only I wasn’t even in my bed.

It took me a few minutes to remember where I was and with whom I was cuddling, but when I did, mortification followed swiftly. That would be entirely the fault of the bulge that was digging into my hip and the realization of what it was.

Peeta’s dick. His very hard and very erect and suspiciously large dick.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my pen in my hand, trying to steer my thoughts away from the path they’ve taken each time I’ve remembered those brief moments right after waking this morning. Within a matter of seconds, I went from “Ah, Peeta’s dick” to “Oh fuck! Peeta’s dick” to wondering if he’d think it amiss to wake up with my mouth on said dick. From there it was a short mental trip to both of us naked and completely fucked on the floor.

Needless to say, by the time I carefully extricated myself from the blankets, and caught his sharp intake when my hip rolled over the temptation inside his pants, I was burning up inside. Thankfully, Peeta was either still asleep, or enough of a gentleman that he kept his eyes shut and feigned sleep while I made my graceless exit to the bathroom.

I power down my computer and slog outside to my truck, wishing I had never agreed to have dinner with him and Karina tonight. Because now that I’ve had an actual, real, and somewhat intimate contact with his cock, the oh so mature adult part of me can’t stop thinking about it -- and him in general -- in ways that could be detrimental to our friendship.

We made these plans days ago, though, and after the way Karina acted last night, I feel the need to have a one on one chat with her, if Peeta hasn’t already found time to clear the issue with her. We’ll just both have to continue acting like completely mature adults and ignore the elephant cock in the room -- the fact that we fell asleep together on his couch and now I wanna deep throat him.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

I stop by my apartment to change into jeans and my favorite sweater and gather my presents for Peeta and Karina. They won’t open them until Christmas morning, but Karina loves having presents under the tree in the days leading up to the holiday.

As I drive towards their home, I focus on the painfully awkward moments Peeta and I shared in his kitchen this morning over hasty cups of coffee, and the way we could barely even look at one another before I made it out of there. Thankfully, I made my escape before Karina woke up and made the whole situation worse.

My phone chimes with a text from Peeta as I turn onto their street. I’ll be there in a minute anyways, so I don’t bother checking it. Most of our communication today has been about the lake, another thing I’m thankful for since it set the tone for how we’re handling what happened this morning. I park in the driveway and start unloading the presents. Peeta opens the door for me, his expression harried and worried.

“Did you get my text?”

“I did but I didn’t get a chance to read it,” I tell him as he takes the presents out of my hands and we make our way inside.

“If you want to leave, I’ll completely understand,” Peeta says and I wrinkle my brow at him. I can handle this. I know we didn’t do too well this morning, but we’ve done fine making it a non issue all day and we’re both adults. Or at least we can pretend to be. So what if he had a hard on and it turned me on too. We can continue as though nothing happened. “The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable here, and Karina’s—“

“Daddy, look up!” She sing songs the words and Peeta curses under his breath. My eyes automatically jump up to the mistletoe tied with a bright red ribbon and hanging from the entryway light over our heads.

“I tried to warn you,” he whispers. And then his lips are on my cheek. Heat blooms beneath the brief contact and spreads to the tips of my being. It’s only a short kiss and when he pulls back, he looks like some awful cocktail of mortified, guilty, and pained.

But he kissed my cheek.

It doesn’t stop there, though. All over the house, Karina has strung up gobs of mistletoe. I can’t take two steps without her shouting and a kiss being exchanged. As we work side by side to get dinner ready, there’s a sprig hanging overhead. She demands someone get kissed every time she walks through the kitchen, which she does an inordinate amount of times. Peeta even moves that one, but when he’s out of the kitchen for three minutes, Karina puts it right back. There’s one in the hallway so that whenever I walk from one room to the next, Peeta’s lips wind up on me. There’s even a garland of the damn stuff draped above the couch. What does she expect us to do? Make out on it in front of her after dinner?

Every time I try to get Peeta alone to talk about it, she’s there, making sure we’re not disrespecting traditions. The girl has turned into a kiss demanding despot ninja.

He kisses my forehead, my temple, my cheeks, my hands. I have to reciprocate almost as often. Of course, he snags Karina instead a few times and gives her noisy kisses that make her laugh and shove him away playfully, but most of the time, she evades him and I wind up as his kissing partner.

I’ve entered a mistletoe minefield and the worst part is...I discover that I like kissing Peeta. I like him kissing me. His skin is warm, his lips are soft, and god he smells so good. I may burn something in protest if Karina convinces him to start wearing cologne again.

But he doesn’t much look like he’s enjoying kissing me.

“Karina, your phone is ringing,” Peeta says after dinner and points at the thing as it vibrates across the kitchen counter.

“It’s Meaghan. I’ll be right back; don’t start dessert without me!” She finally leaves us be to race upstairs and talk to her friend. Peeta sighs and rakes a hand through his hair.

“You seem upset,” I say. “Should I kiss it and make it all better?”

Peeta glares at me. When I lift one eyebrow at him, he bursts out laughing and shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry, Katniss. The past two weeks, I’ve had difficulty getting a read on her, but this…” he waves at a nearby grouping of mistletoe. “I think I’ve finally got it. She does want me to start seeing someone again, but she’s got a specific someone in mind.”

Did I mention that I was burning inside? The pieces all fall into place, and while some of them still don’t make logical sense, along with Karina’s idea of festive decorating today, Peeta’s explanation fits with  _ most _ of them. I’ve just been blinded by my belief that he and Karina could never want someone as plain and ordinary as me. I am a lump of coal compared to the diamond that was Glimmer.

“Me?” I ask, my pulse fluttering madly. Peeta nods and for the first time since I woke up on top of him with cock on the brain, we’re able to hold each other’s gaze. I can’t decide whether I should scream, cry, or kiss him for real. Karina wanting us to date is not the same as Peeta wanting us to date. I’m still caught in that mistletoe minefield and one wrong step could blow both our hearts to smithereens. “So what are we going to do?”

“I'll talk to her about it. I hate to crush her hopes for anything this time of year but…I think I may have given her false hope last night by cancelling that date. Honestly, the only reason I was considering dating again and told Madge I’d think about meeting her friend was because it seemed to be what Karina wanted, but that’s not fair to anyone involved. I come with a lot of extras. Karina herself, -- I don’t want to foist the role of mother on anyone who doesn’t want it.”

I twist my hands together, tossed on a sea of strange emotions. Elation that I was apparently wrong about Karina’s views on me. The quickly fading fire and the hollow pit it leaves as I realize that Peeta is trying to gently let me down before we’ve even started anything romantic. Peeta takes a deep breath before he continues. “A divorce in my past and all the wonderful insecurities that left us both with. No one should be expected to clean up someone else’s mess. I’m just sorry that you got caught up in her schemes.”

“What are you going to say to her?” I croak out the words past the lump forming in my throat.

“I don’t know yet. It’s just...You are such an important part of our lives, Katniss. You’re a part of our family — a friend and role model to Karina, and in some ways more of a mother than Glimmer was to her. You’re strong and independent, so fierce, loyal, intelligent, caring and passionate. I couldn’t ask for a better role model for her. She loves you, and I think that she’s trying to find a way to make sure that you don’t leave her too.”

“And you’re my best friend. No matter what, you’ve been here for us through it all. I just don’t want Karina’s need for proof that you won’t leave us to be the thing that drives you away,” he whispers and his eyes flick away from my face.

“I understand,” I murmur, because what else am I supposed to say? But more words spill out anyways. “I'm not going anywhere, Peeta.”

“I hope not. I better deal with the dishes and get dessert ready.”

He squeezes my hand and turns to load the dishwasher. I slip out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door, I sit on the closed toilet seat and bite my thumb nail, rolling Peeta’s words over in my head. Over and over with nowhere to go.

When I’ve gotten myself put back together, I return to the living room. Karina stands in front of the TV, flipping through channels, no doubt searching for one of her Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ears and avoid Peeta’s gaze as I sit in the chair. Single seating and nowhere near the mistletoe traps. When Karina finds what she’s looking for, she turns and her face falls a hundred feet when she sees me sitting so far away from Peeta. I want to wrap her in a hug and soothe her, to tell her that everything will be fine, but Peeta’s right. Whatever we do, we have to be careful with her hopes and expectations. I can’t let her continue to think there’s something between Peeta and I when there isn’t.

All through the movie, I hug my knees to my chest and keep my eyes trained on the screen. Near the end of it, Peeta nudges Karina off his shoulder and helps her upstairs. The movie ends while they’re up there and I turn off the electronics.

“She’s out cold,” Peeta tells me when he comes back downstairs. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and I stand in the middle of the room, searching for the right words. I’ve never been good with them, not like Peeta is.

“Will we see you tomorrow?” he asks and I nod. The words stick in my throat. Peeta runs a hand through his hair. He’s done that so much tonight that his cowlick is standing up in back. It’s disgustingly adorable. “About what I said earlier. I don’t want…I don’t want it to come between us and —”

“It won’t,” I cut him off. “It’ll take a lot more than a few Christmas decorations to scare me off.” 

Peeta smiles and opens his arms. I step right into them and hold him as tightly as he’s holding me. “That’s what I love about you.”


	14. December 13th - So I Found a Color

It’s frightening how easily we can fall right back into old habits. I’m only half awake and yet I’m able to make the perfect cup of coffee, just the way she likes it, and hand it off to Prim when she wanders into my kitchen. It's like she never even left.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the mug with one hand while the other holds her mangy cat.

“Don’t mention it,” I say and rummage in my pantry for something that might help the day start better than yesterday ended.

I still haven’t figured out how I feel about my conversation with Peeta, and to top it all off, Prim was waiting for me on my doorstep when I got home. Eyes red and puffy, a bag packed with a few clothes, and Buttercup tucked in the crook of her elbow, she’d begged me to let her crash on my couch.

I settle on some cereal, which sounds less than appetizing right now, but I need to get in to work and don’t have time to cook a gourmet meal.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask as I slide into my chair. Prim pushes a spoon through her bowl of yogurt and the cat jumps up on my table. I clench my own spoon and refrain from scolding the damn beast. He’s basically had the run of the place since Prim got here. I’ve already got half an orange cat strewn across the couch with how much hair he’s shed. I woke in the middle of the night to him pawing at trinkets on top of my dresser and then glaring at me as if to say that _I_ was the intruder.

“Rory and I had a fight,” Prim begins and I now I’m biting back a sarcastic reply of _No shit, Sherlock._ But she’s my sister and I love her, so I manage to curb my tongue. Her next words make me glad I did. “I’m not sure that we should be together anymore.”

The waterworks break loose then and Prim blubbers through the explanation. Thankfully, I practically raised her and speak fluent Primbreakdownish. “He wants kids, Katniss. Like now and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that! We’re not even engaged and I think he’s bought a ring for Christmas and we’re both working all the time. We’ve been together for almost ten years now and sometimes I think we’re just together because it’s safe and we’re the only person the other one’s ever been with but we don’t have time for meeting other people and I think about breaking things off with him—” _sniff sniff_ “—a lot! But then I start to panic because I don’t wanna be alone! But then I think about him proposing and I panic even more! God you’re so lucky. You don’t need anyone and you’re so strong. You’ve got life all figured out here. I wish I could be like you.” _Sniff sniff._

We sit there in silence as I try to digest her rambling and she paws at her eyes to wipe away her tears. I do manage to produce some tissues for her, but I’m lost this time. I don’t have life figured out. If I did, we’d be sitting in Peeta’s kitchen right now. That thought is a kick to the gut and starts up a panic of my own. My brain thinks now is the time I should eat, and so I shovel in soggy cereal, amazed at how my hands aren’t shaking. They feel like they should be shaking and splashing milk everywhere. Where did my sister get these crazy ideas about my life?

“Say something, Katniss,” Prim says between hiccoughs.                          

“Anything else?” I ask and Prim laughs sardonically.

“He hates Buttercup.”

“Well he might have a point there.”

She sighs and scratches the cat behind the ears. Her phone starts beeping and she curses, gulping down the rest of her yogurt and racing from the room. “I’m late for work!”

I guess we’ll be dealing with her relationship issues later. She’s out the door in a whirlwind and I’m left with the cat. Once I’m ready for my own job, I point at him and scowl so he knows I mean business. “Wreck my shit and I’ll wreck yours, fleabag.”

His tail swishes once but his eyes remain unblinking and unimpressed. Devil cat.

I don’t have time to dwell on Prim’s confessions or my own feelings for Peeta as the morning turns into a frenzy of work. I’m ready to punch someone by lunch time but I keep what I hope is a convincing smile on my face. Plutarch is in fine form, acting as though he was the mastermind behind our Blue Bell Lake efforts. Just like him to stir shit up and then sit in the wings only to take credit for our work when success is within sight. Gale’s found a loophole in the laws that will prevent the state from selling off the land for sixty days if we can get the city council to dissent with their decision. It’s not great, but it buys us some more time.

And yet, I find myself grinding my teeth most of the day. The only bright spot is a picture message from Peeta that shows the basket with no gingerbread cookies and instead a wad of cash. _It’s raining bucks!_ He says with a deer emoji. I snort and then continue my efforts to not explode.

Just as I’m thinking of cutting out and seeing if Cinna is available for lunch, my landlord calls. It’s odd enough to hear from her that I answer.

“Katniss, darling. This is Effie Trinket.” Sirens and what sounds like a fire engine horn interrupt her for a moment. “Honestly. Oh dear, there is no good way to say this. I’m afraid your apartment caught fire this morning.”

“What?!” I screech. This has got to be a joke, but no. Another voice comes over the line.

“Is that the tenant? Let me speak with her.” His next words are louder and brusque. “Miss Everdeen, this is Thom Neilson with the Panem Fire Department. There’s been a fire at your apartment and if possible, you’ll want to come home so we can discuss your options and see to a few details.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’ll have to tell my boss, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

The fireman must hear something in my voice because his now softens. “I’m very sorry this happened to you so close to the holidays, Miss Everdeen. We’re going to do everything we can to get you back home as quickly as possible.”

Plutarch wavers when I tell him but Johanna overhears the conversation and pops her hip to glare at him. “Shall we set your backyard on fire and see how you like it, Plutarch? Let her go. It’s one afternoon.”

 _Thank you,_ I mouth to her when Plutarch concedes, and I race from the office. The entire drive, I knead my steering wheel and sing to myself to keep from flipping out. I might be homeless and without clothes for the holidays. How did this even happen?

When I get there, I can see the char marks around the window that would be my living room. The window is gone and a ladder from one of the trucks extends up to meet the gaping opening. I can smell the burned remnants of my home. Water from the fight still glistens on the pavement, some of it already turning to treacherous ice. Effie waves at me and I head towards her, stopping short when I see her gingerly holding Buttercup.

“My dear, I don’t believe you have authorization for a pet,” she says in clipped tones. A fireman steps over and takes the cat from Effie.

“Miss Everdeen, is this your cat?”

“No!” I shout and Effie makes a sound of disbelief in her throat. “He’s my sister’s cat. My sister…she stayed with me last night.”

Buttercup hisses at me and Thom somehow gets the beast to curl up in his arms and calm down. “This guy appears to be the cause of the blaze. From what we can tell so far, he chewed through a strand of lights on your tree. It sparked and the tree went up in seconds. One of the dangers of having a real tree, I’m afraid.”

I glare at the cat and Thom calls one of the other firefighters over. He keeps talking to me while the man heads our way. “The bulk of the damage is in the living room. Everywhere else, it’s just smoke damage and some water damage from our hoses. Jack here will escort you inside to salvage what you need for the next few days, but after that, I’m afraid it’ll be at least a week before you can return here.”

“A week?” I ask feebly. I don’t want to impose on any of my friends for that long this close to the holidays.

“That’s just part of the process,” he explains and I nod.

“Let me…call my sister first.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep an eye on this trouble maker,” he says and walks off with Buttercup. Of course, Prim doesn’t answer. She’s probably busy at the hospital so I leave her a terse message then follow Jack inside my apartment.

The living room is unrecognizable. There’s no chance of salvaging anything that Prim brought with her, other than the damn cat. Once we’re in the bedroom, Jack offers help, but I decline, grabbing my duffle bag from the closet and shoving things into it. I can’t seem to focus or see clearly around the tears forming in my eyes. God I don’t want to break down in front of this firefighter, but everything is just piled on top of me. I have no idea if I’ve made any sense in my packing and snatch up one more bag to fill in case I’ve done something stupid like not pack any underwear or suitable clothes for work. Where am I supposed to go now?

When we make it back outside, Prim is pulling up, her car screeching to a halt. “Katniss!”

“My sister,” I tell Jack the firefighter and he moves the yellow tape to let her pass.

“Where’s Buttercup?” she asks breathlessly. “Is he okay?”

Thom walks over with Buttercup then. I drop my bags, grab the cat, and shove him into her arms. Her eyes widen and I can’t hold back the anger and frustration anymore.

“Go home, Prim. Take your stupid cat, go home, and stop stringing Rory along. Fucking talk to him about what you want, even if it’s to say, ‘I don’t know yet.’ And if he can’t respect that…then he doesn’t respect you.”

She’s stunned into silence and I haul my bags to my truck, flinging them into the bed. I climb into the cab and shut the door so she can’t follow me. That’s when the tears start. Stupid fat tears that won’t do me any good but that I can’t seem to stop. What am I going to do? My hands fumble with my phone and I dial the first person I think of.

“Hey, how’s your day going?” Peeta says. I can’t answer him though my blubbering. “Katniss? Katniss what happened? Where are you?”

“My place,” I manage to stutter. I want to tell him that I’m alright, there’s no need for the worry in his voice, but I can’t manage the words.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

It only takes him a few minutes to get here, but in that time, I’m no closer to getting myself under control. His tires squeal as he parks next to me. I open my door part way before it’s wrenched from my hands and Peeta’s hauling me out of my seat and into his arms. He mutters nonsense while we cling to one another. It doesn’t matter what he’s saying, the tone of his voice and the feel of his arms around me are enough. Every passing second brings me closer to equilibrium until I stop crying and start breathing normally again. I don’t even notice the cold seeping in through my now wet boots.

He smells like yeast and spices from the bakery. There’s a streak of flour on his face and as he cups my face in his palm, I flinch from the cold of his skin. He didn’t even bother putting on gloves or buttoning his coat. Our eyes meet and the fear is plain to see in his eyes. I didn’t realize that it was exactly what I needed to see until this moment.

“Prim’s cat set my apartment on fire,” I tell him. Then I snort. It turns into a crazed laugh as I bury my face in his shirt and decide I never want to come out.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Peeta asks and I shake my head. I guess I could stay with my Mom and Hazelle, but their place is so small and Prim may have already beat me to that one.

“I don’t know yet,” I whisper.

“Stay with me,” he says in a voice rough with emotion. Then he coughs to clear his throat. “You can stay with me, if you like. For as long as you need to.”

His hand massages the back of my scalp and I melt into the touch. We stand there for a while longer and eventually, we step apart at the same time.

“Are you okay to drive? We can some back for your truck later if we need to.”

“No, I’m fine,” I tell him.

“Alright, I’ll meet you over at my place.”

I’m in a haze the entire drive but we make it there safely. Peeta makes sure the guest room bed is made up and finds a clean towel for me. I spend too much time in the shower, washing off the scent of smoke that clings to me and warming my frigid toes. When I make it downstairs, Peeta has tea and lunch waiting for me.

We eat and drink in silence until I look at the clock and realize he’s missing the bulk of his work day. “Don’t you have to get back to the bakery?”

“Nothing happening there is more important than making sure you’re okay.” I don’t know what to think when he says things like that. I’m at my limit and the tears start again, gentler this time, but Peeta’s arms are around me in seconds. “Tis the season to be merry.”

I laugh at his words and the sarcastic tone, gripping his shirt to keep him close. I don’t need to, though. He doesn’t let go of me for what feels like hours.


	15. December 14th - That Only Tells the Truth

On the drive to school, Karina talks nonstop. Every time I open my mouth, she has something else to say. I’m not sure where she finds this inexhaustible source of conversation but it’s exhausting. Not because I mind listening to her, but because I know that I have got to talk to her about her obvious attempts at setting me up with her dad. It’s getting difficult to deal with his apparent disinterest and although he claims he told her to back off, Peeta’s just too nice to be blunt enough to dissuade her if she’s got her heart set on something.

Only the girl won’t let me get in a single word. It’s like she knows what I want to say and is blocking me at every turn.

Not that I’m trying especially hard. In truth, this is a conversation not to be had in the car on the way to school. Normally on days when Peeta has to be at the bakery at the crack of dawn, she rides the bus or her grandmother will drive her, but since I’m staying with them, I feel the need to pitch in and help out where I can. She’s only got today and tomorrow to attend school anyways. Eventually, I give up on talking and let her go. When we reach the school, I grumble at the carpool lane nonsense and Karina kisses my cheek before she climbs out.

“Love you, Katniss! See this afternoon!”

“Love you, too Karina!” I manage to shout before my truck door slams. “You can’t run forever.”

With a sigh, I drive myself to work. I bury myself in the tasks until lunch when I’m able to breathe freely as I walk to the restaurant where I’m supposed to be meeting Cinna. I just need to get out of the office and away from my memories of how caring and solicitous Peeta was to me last night. I guess it was no more than I’d expect from him, and yet I can’t seem to keep from analyzing every last angle for something I’m almost certain isn’t even there. I’m just torturing myself.

I balk when I enter the restaurant and see a blonde already seated with Cinna, her hand on his arm as they laugh.

“Ah, Katniss,” he greets. “I ran into Madge on my way here.”

Madge smiles and stands to hug me. I return the embrace and then plop down in my chair.

“I heard what happened. Let us know if there’s anything Gale and I can do to help. Food, clothes, a place to crash, cat extermination services.”

Cinna chuckles and I nod. “Thanks, I will. Peeta and Karina are letting me stay at their place right now.”

“Of course they are,” Madge says. I narrow my eyes at her. I don’t know why I’m so angry with her, it’s not like she burned down my apartment, but I can’t seem to control the feeling as it simmers beneath my skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Madge replies. “I’m just not surprised that Peeta offered before anyone else.”

I shift in my seat as the waiter approaches to take our drink orders and the conversation shifts away from my misfortunes, at least for a little while. We wander through fashion, the Hawthorne kids, and the lake -- to include vague ideas for a more permanent solution if we succeed on Monday night. Eventually, though, we make it back around to the fire. Talking about it just brings back all my frustrations, fear, and anger. Prim called me to apologize, but she still hasn’t had that talk with Rory and she’s refusing to get rid of that cat.

“Like I said, if things get too uncomfortable at Peeta’s, you’re more than welcome to stay with us. It’ll be crowded and crazy, but we’d love to have you,” Madge reiterates.

“Why would it be uncomfortable at Peeta’s?”

“I don’t know. It’s just an offer, Katniss,” Madge tries to soothe, but I’m stressed and the up and down is killing me. The words fly out before I can think better of them.

“I get that you’re trying to get me out of the way so you can pimp Peeta out to your friend and all, but he isn’t gonna toss a friend out on her ass just so he can get laid,” I snap.

Cinna stops mid sip to stare at me, aghast. Madge purses her lips. Slowly, Cinna sets his drink down, as though expecting one of us to blow up. Which I guess I kind of already did.

“Katniss dear, I think what Madge –”

“No,” Madge stops him, holding up a hand to silence him, but her eyes are trained on me. “Don’t you dare try to calm her down. I don’t care if you did almost lose everything to that fire, Katniss. I’ve been watching you act like an idiot for too long to keep quiet anymore. I’ll probably regret it later and blame it on the hormones.”

I open my mouth to argue. This isn’t like Madge at all, but she shakes her head vigorously and hisses at me.

“Shut it and listen, Katniss. You prance around here and there with your head held high like you’re somehow better than the rest of us because you’re devoted to your career and remained single for this long. You walk a round with a permanent _Fuck Off_ sign on your forehead, and while that works great for you and all, it makes you completely unapproachable to people who don’t know you.

“You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to get married and don’t want kids and don’t think romance and love are worth half a pile of shit, and even if that’s just an image you’re projecting to protect yourself or it’s actually the truth, your closest friend has made an artform of respecting your apparent wishes and burying his feelings for you. I don’t know for how long because there’s the added complication of Glimmer and a messy divorce, but what I do know is this: Peeta loves you. He’s head over heels, smashed to pieces in love with you. And he is doing everything from policing his words to holding himself back to keep from burdening you with his feelings. So forgive me if rather than watch my friend destroy himself over yet another woman who isn’t going to reciprocate his love unconditionally, I’m trying to help him find at least affection or interest or a night of good sex somewhere else.”

“You said he didn’t love Glimmer,” I accuse because I’m not ready to face the rest of what she’s said.

“He didn’t. And she didn’t love him. Not really. But they were eighteen when they met, Katniss. At some point, he thought he did. Then they had Karina and he fought to keep them both happy. You got to see the messy middle and even messier end. Do you know why they got married? Did he ever tell you that?” I shake my head, a little in awe of this tower of strength who’s grown out of Madge. “Her father was a puritanical nightmare and Peeta was her rebellious stage. Someone her father would never approve of but who was willing to show her a good time. Whoopsie daisy, she got pregnant and blubbered about how her father was going to murder her. So Peeta does the honorable thing and marries her, brings her and Karina here because her father was making both of their lives a living hell, not to mention trying to control how they were raising Karina. And what’s she do in response? She fucking cheats on him. For years.”

“I know that last part,” I sneer and she smacks her hands on the table.

“I’m not done yet!” I can feel my face frozen in wide eyed shock at her outburst. Even unflappable Cinna’s looking a bit flapped. Madge smooths her hair back and takes a deep breath.

“I told Peeta that he needs to stop pining over you and move forward with his life. That’s how I got him to agree to finally meet Penelope only to have him change his mind. Do you know that I had a fight with Meaghan about this yesterday? Apparently Karina’s trying to get the two of you to wake the fuck up and finally tell each other how you feel and my efforts got in the way.”

“Meaghan knows about that?”

Madge glares at me and the sight is terrifying. “Two twelve year old girls can see what you can’t, Katniss. So if you’re really pissed about Peeta talking about going on a date with someone else, get your head out of the snow and do something about it. You want him? There’s the door.” She motions behind me and I shiver, feeling an imagined breeze calling me out the door. “Go. Get. Him.”

She holds my gaze and doesn’t back down. Her words permeate every corner of my brain. Sound ceases to exist for a second and in its place—

“Uh, shall I come back later?” Three heads snap up to face the waiter, who’s looking between us like a mouse caught in a tiger trap.

“No need,” Cinna says and lifts his menu. Somehow, he orders for all three of us while I spin my straw in my water glass and Madge glares at me. To call the rest of lunch tense would be an understatement. When I stand to leave, Madge hauls me into a rough embrace. I’m tense until she whispers to me, her voice pleading and soft, more like the Madge I know and call my friend.

“Please stop hiding yourself away, Katniss.”

I almost cry on the spot but I manage to keep it together. All afternoon, that’s my mantra. Keep it together. I repeat it every second of the day until I realize that keeping it together is exactly my problem, not the solution. By the time I’m leaving work, all I know is that I have got to talk to Peeta. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. What if Madge is wrong?

But the more I think about it, the more I’m certain she’s not. All the small things he’s done for me, the grand things he’s said and the actions to back them up. His hesitations and inability to hold my gaze when we spoke about Karina’s schemes the other night, as though he was still holding something back from me, or afraid that I’d walk away.

I’m just one friend to Peeta, who has dozens of friends and wouldn’t miss me…unless I’m not. Unless I’m somehow something else entirely to him.

“Maybe I should just kiss him,” I mutter to myself as I pull into the driveway right behind him as he pulls his car into the garage. Karina flies out of the car and inside. I hurry to join a worried looking Peeta.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” he says. “I knew something was bothering her as soon as she got in the car, but I couldn’t get her to tell me.”

I follow him into the house and work off my boots while he throws aside his coat and follows her upstairs. I’m about to suggest he give her space when I remember that I’m not her mother. It’s not my place. That thought comes with a stab to the heart. Madge’s words have opened the floodgates of feeling and I can’t damn them back anymore. I creep up the stairway and stand in Karina’s open door way. She’s curled up on her bed, face buried in her pillow, crying. Peeta leans over her, his face lined in worry as he speaks softly, his hand running up and down her arm.

“Kare-Bear, whatever it is, I can listen.”

“You won’t understand,” she wails and her shoulders shake.

“I can try,” he whispers. “At least talk about it. Maybe that will help you figure it out, even if I can’t understand.”

She sniffles for a minute and I am drawn into the room. Peeta looks up and watches as I enter, but he doesn’t send me away. I perch on the bed behind Karina, so that Peeta and I surround her, my weight making the mattress dip. I caress over her hair and remain silent. Waiting.

“Elaina Joyce said…she said Glimmer didn’t love me. That I was a mistake and my own mother wished I’d never been born. That all she did was give me a name and then leave because she couldn’t stand me.”

Peeta drops his head close to Karina’s and sighs heavily.

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s right. Daddy, what was so wrong with me that Mom didn’t want to stay?”

“It wasn’t you, Kare-Bear. It was me. And her.”

“She didn’t love me,” Karina says and the words break my heart.

“I can’t answer that for you,” Peeta laments. “All I can tell you is that _I_ love you. Karina, Kare-Bear look at me.”

She lifts her chin just enough to look at Peeta over her pillow.

“The first time I saw you on an ultra-sound picture – you were just this grainy little lump on the screen – but I could hear your heart beating. And I knew, I’d love you for the rest of my life. I was a goner in seconds. The first time I felt you kicking inside your Mom’s belly – god I didn’t know anyone could feel that much love until that moment. Then when I finally got to hold you for the first time…nothing in the universe could get me to stop or make me forget that I love you.”

Karina sniffles again and the soft smile that was forming on Peeta’s face starts to fall. “But I know that might not be enough for you. Your Mom and I made a lot of mistakes and I hate that you’ve paid part of the price. But please believe me when I say that you were _never_ one of those mistakes.”

At this Karina nods and hugs her pillow closer. “What about my name?”

Peeta hesitates for a moment, but I know where she’s going. Proof. She wants proof.

“Well, names are pretty important things,” I tell her. Karina rolls over and looks at me, wide-eyed and hurting. I pull out my phone and open the browser. “For example, my Dad picked my name.”

“What’s your name mean?” Karina asks and I smile at her eager curiosity.

“Let’s do some research,” I say and she sits up, wiping under her nose. “Katniss is actually a plant. A water plant. Blue Bell Lake is one of the places it grows. I’ll show you in the spring if the lake is still there. My Dad and I, we used to go there and harvest the roots and eat them. They’re like potatoes only kind of blue.”

I flip the phone to show her. Karina’s eyes widen at the image of the plant. “He used to say that as long as I could find myself, I’d never starve.”

She smiles and I return to the phone, typing in the name and hoping that my hunch isn’t wrong. As I wait for the results to load, Karina turns to Peeta. “What about you, Dad? What’s your name mean?”

“My parents couldn’t agree on a name. Gramma wanted to name me Peter. It means “rock” and she thought I would need to be strong and steady since I was the third brother. But my dad wanted all of us to be named after some kind of bread because of the bakery. Graham was easy but when Dad wanted to name your uncle Rye, Gramma argued. Eventually she convinced him to add an N and they named your uncle Ryen instead. But me – well dad wanted to name me Pita, with an “i.” So this was the compromise.”

I smile at the image of nutty Mr. Mellark spouting off bread names while Felicity glared at him and grumbled about just wanting regular names. Karina turns back to me expectantly and I look down at the screen.

“Karina,” I read. “A variant of Carina, with a C, meaning love, dear, beloved.”

“Let me see!” Karina says and I had her my phone. Light blooms in her cheeks as she reads the meaning of her name.

“So Elaina was wrong,” I tell her. “It’s right there in your name that you’re loved. Everywhere you go, you take love with you.”

Peeta’s plucking at the comforter as she turns around to face him. “Dad, who picked my name?”

He takes a deep breath and looks up at her, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I did.”

Karina drops my phone and throws her arms around him. My heart swells near to bursting and I shift to stand, to leave them alone, but Karina grabs my hand and pulls me towards them. Peeta’s arms shift to embrace us both. I am overwhelmed as we hold each other.

This, I think. This is what I want. Peeta. Karina. Both of them and me somewhere in the mix. A small little family, bent and close to the edge, but still fighting. And I know, my part in this fight has just begun.


	16. December 15th - That Paints a Picture

“Christmas presents for male friends,” Johanna reads and I smack the cover of my laptop shut. My cheeks burn. My stomach ties in knots. “Wow Brainless, are you really that dense that you have to ask Google for ideas?”

No, I’m just that freaked out, but I turn around to scowl at Johanna, wondering if an obliging sink hole or meteor might help me in my moment of desperation. She smacks her hands on the arms of my chair and leans in close to my face.

“Let me help you out of your conundrum. Try something in lace, satin, or leather. The smaller the ratio between the size of the item and the _how to wash_ tag on it, the better.”

“No wonder you have so many lifelong friends,” I say and Johanna puckers her lips in a fake kiss at me then shoves herself back upright.

“Tick tock, gorgeous. New Years is right around the corner. I’d like a set of lips to kiss mine at midnight. And I won’t be needing lipstick for that either.” She pauses in the opening to my office and pops her hip to smirk at me. I hate her sometimes.

“Look elsewhere,” I snap.

“Feisty. I like it,” she says and then saunters off to torture someone else, leaving me with my last minute panic.

I already bought a present for Peeta, but I’ve been examining everything that’s been said between us the past few weeks and even further back than that, searching for a way to show him how I feel. I’ve been drawing blanks and in my self-doubt, turned to the internet and the dubious help it could provide. My first search did little more than turn up exactly what Johanna suggested. _Christmas gifts for boyfriends_ yielded names of lingerie sellers, sex toy merchants, and cologne peddlers. Because nothing celebrates a religious holiday like sex and more sex.

I haven’t had much luck on the platonic side either, though. Most of those ideas ranged from craft beer brewing kits to kitesurfing or base-jumping adventures. Not exactly something Peeta would be interested in.

Opening the laptop again, I clear out the search and finish up my last few tasks for the week. I don’t feel guilty using work time for my gift search since I’ll still have a few days in the office next week, and I’m ahead on my punch lists – the result of too much nervous energy today.

What I really need is some time alone with Peeta, just the two of us. But that might be difficult with his matchmaking ninja daughter on the case. I drum my fingers on my desk and stare at my phone. An idea starts to take shape, the vague recollection of something my sister said a few weeks ago. I smile and spring back into action. For once this month, Prim might have actually helped me.

A quick internet search, a few phone calls, and my plans are in motion. Karina’s not the only one who can be devious. Now for the final and most important piece. With a deep breath, I force myself to face my fears and type.

**_I was thinking you could use a break. What do say you and I do something tonight? Just the two of us._ **

It takes him a few minutes to answer, and in that time, I tie up my loose ends at work and pack up my things for the weekend.

**_Sure. I’ll have to see if Mom can watch Karina._ **

**_Already done. She’ll be over at six to pick up Karina for the night_** , I send back and he responds almost immediately.

**_Oh.  
Okay. I should probably make sure Karina is alright with it after what happened last night._ **

**_Of course_** , I send back after I roll my eyes, thinking that the kissing despot won’t take much prodding. She’ll probably usher us out the door and push the car down the driveway herself. After she ties some mistletoe to the rearview mirror.

**_Are we eating out?_ **

My mind jumps straight to year old dreams and red socks and a flash of desire races through me. I know he probably didn’t mean it _that_ way, though. The knowledge makes me hesitate, thinking also of what Peeta said he other night, about not wanting to give Karina false hope. While Peeta and I going out as friends isn’t something new to her, I should probably make this appear as far from a date as possible. We’ll just have to be careful how we tell her.

**_Nope. Dinner at home tonight._ **

**_Alright. I’ll pick up some takeout when I get Karina._ **

Even with the brief errand I have to run, I reach home first, since Peeta has to pick Karina up at her piano lesson and then go get the food. I take a stupid amount of time deciding what to wear. It’s insane. Even with my two bags of clothes, I can’t put together a decent non-date date outfit. I grabbed a skirt but no tights. Slacks that no longer fit. A dress and no heels. By some ridiculous twist of fate, I brought the red socks that Prim gave me. I shove them to the bottom of the bag and keep looking. Eventually, I decide on jeans, a somewhat nice green blouse, and boots.

“We’re home!” Karina shouts and the door slams just as I’m tugging on my boots. I hurry back downstairs and join them in the kitchen.

“Hey, you look nice,” Peeta says as he unloads the cartons from paper sacks.

“I need the break, too.” I say and he nods, pausing to flatten his hand on my back and drop a sweet kiss on my forehead. I remember my Dad doing exactly this with my mother. The kiss. The smile he gives me when he returns to unloading the food. I add them the quickly growing tally of small signs that Peeta might love me.

“So where are we going?” Peeta asks. Karina’s head is on a swivel watching us. I want to reassure her, but I still don’t know how this night will go. Instead I suggest that she set the table. She wrinkles her nose but decides not to argue and hurries to finish her task.

“It’s a surprise,” I tell him when her back is turned.

“Okay, keep your secrets for now. I’ll learn them eventually,” he says as I pull plates out of the cabinet and set them on the counter for him to fill. Emboldened by the smile on his face, I rise on my toes, so my lips are right next to his ear.

“I hope you do,” I whisper. His hand slips, the tongs flinging lo mein across the counter as his ears turn red. His eyes jump to mine and I chastise myself. That was probably too fast. Suddenly I’m thinking of the mortified look on his face during the mistletoe minefield incident and I’m not so sure that Madge was right about Peeta’s feelings at all.

“Did we get egg rolls, Dad?’ Karina asks and Peeta swallows heavily before turning to answer her.

All through dinner, he keeps looking at me like I’m some kind of puzzle he can’t figure out. Just before six, Peeta sends Karina upstairs to pack an overnight bag. Felicity arrives then, eliminating his chance to ask me any more questions. After a few minutes of flurried activity, we’re in my truck and on our way. At first, we talk about the daily minutiae, but his curiosity eventually resurfaces.

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” he asks and I shake my head, the smile on my face ridiculously wide. I really hope he likes this.

“I’m kidnapping you for the night,” I say.

“Don’t quit your day job ‘cuz I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t get enough in ransom to make it worth your while.”

“Who says I’d let you go?” The words tumble out and I glance over at him. He’s got that puzzled look on his face again, although I’m driving and can’t examine his face too closely. Besides, we’re almost at our destination.

“Not even a hint?” he asks.

“No. Shut up and close your eyes,” I tell him.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely,” he says and shuts his eyes.

“Are they closed?” I ask.

“Tight as a drum.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” I ask, still gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

“Probably just your middle finger,” he says and laughs when I shove his shoulder. I park and turn to him.

“Okay, we’re here.”

Peeta opens his eyes and blinks. In the cool tones of the streetlights, his lashes disappear. It’s a shame. They’re so long and blond and beautiful in the sunlight. He leans forward to peer through the truck windshield and reads the words on the sign.

“Painting with a Twist. What…?”

I reach into the back and grab our supplies then open my door. “Come on, Peeta. Let’s have some fun.”

He follows me into the studio and stands back as I sign us in. When I’m done and turn around, he’s examining the paintings that line the walls. I bite my lip, thinking this was probably a horrible idea. Peeta’s paintings blow these out of the water in terms of skill, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen him paint or draw anything.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Okay… Wait.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, expecting the worst, but Peeta reaches into his pocket for his wallet.

“How much was this?”

“Nunya,” I say and he lifts an eyebrow at me.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Nunyabusiness? Is this third grade or something?” But he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me into his chest. I laugh up into his face as he smiles and my fears start to melt.

“It’s a gift, Peeta. A thank you for letting me stay with you and Karina.”

Another group enters then, forcing us to end our hug and move deeper into the studio. Long tables and stools are set up in a classroom style formation with a small stage at the front of the room. A large easel on the stage, tabletop ones in each place on the tables, blank canvases on each easel. We find our names on the backs of plastic dishes and take our seats in the quickly filling room. I pull out the two bottles of wine I brought and Peeta looks askance at me. Then our neighbor pops a cork on hers and he just shakes his head. But he takes the full glass I hand him just as the instructor steps up and introduces herself.

“Welcome to Painting with a Twist! My name is Cashmere and I’ll be your instructor tonight. I spent five years working at our Capitol City branch and am thrilled to see all of you here tonight. I think this might be the largest group I’ve had since we opened this location. A few rules first: there will be no insulting your painting. Each work is unique and will have something special about it. If you’re truly unhappy with it, I’m more than happy at any stage to help you out. If you need more paint, just throw up your hand and I’ll get you more paint. Go ahead and flip your plates over and I’ll load you up.”

While Cashmere works her way around the room, squirting paint onto plates, she goes through the rest of the rules, must of which boil down to common sense, kindness, and having fun. When she dubs the brushes we’ll be using “Papa Brush, Mama Brush, and Baby Brush,” I cringe, realizing just how rudimentary this is, how beneath Peeta’s skill level it must seem.

“Now last rule…your painting skill is inversely proportional to your alcohol consumption. So try not to drink all your beverages at once,” Cashmere says as she steps onto the stage and Peeta chuckles then gives me a pointed look.

“What?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“You know what, you lush,” he whispers, and I place a hand over his mouth. He’s probably referring to Gale and Madge’s ten year anniversary but we don’t need to relive that humiliating anecdote.

“Quiet, I’m trying to listen to the instructions.” He nips at the tips my fingers. I feel it between my legs, stoked by the look in his blue eyes as he turns to pay attention to Cashmere.

I try to follow the instructions. Mostly. I guess I’m too impatient because thirty minutes in, I tilt my head and stare at my work. “It looks like a pig farting.”

Peeta laughs and leans over to look. “Remember the rules. No insulting your painting. Besides, that is clearly a donkey smoking a pipe.”

“Obviously the product of my latent artistic genius,” I say and bump my shoulder into his. Then I catch sight of Peeta’s painting. It’s gorgeous. He’s even found time to add small details and embellishments that aren’t part of the example Cashmere’s walking us through. “Yours is stunning. How do you do that?”

“Practice, I guess,” he says, hand lifting once more to round out an edge on the train winding its way through the mountains. I take a moment to watch him work. To drink in the intense look of concentration on his face, like there’s a million worlds locked away in his mind. I want to see them. All of them. The beautiful and the painful. I get a little lost watching him and startle when Peeta looks over at me abruptly.

“You’re falling behind there, Everdeen,” he murmurs with a soft smile. I scramble to catch up and of course, only make my painting worse. Karina could do a thousand times better.

We paint. We drink wine. Well, Peeta drinks. I limit myself to one glass near the start of the night since I’m the designated driver. We laugh and talk in between bits of instruction. Peeta gets to know our neighbors in the class and finds something genuinely nice to say about each of their paintings. By the end of the night, Peeta has a gorgeous image of a steam locomotive bedecked in holly curving its way through snow laden mountains. He added a frozen lake and even Aurora Borealis to his sky. I have…well I have canvas with colors on it.

By the time the instructor is thanking us for being such a great class, Peeta’s cheeks are rosy and I’m light as air, giddy with the success of my idea. He seems truly happy. We carefully load our paintings into the truck and I crank the heater.

“Katniss, that was...I don’t even have words for it right now.”

“Did you have a good time?” I ask, although I think I know.

“You know I did,” he says and takes one of my hands in his. “The best time. I didn’t know I needed that. A night away from everything, painting, getting a chance to relax. And…you.”

“Even though I painted a dog on its deathbed?”

Peeta laughs and looks down at our joined hands, his thumb caressing over the back of my hand. I’m reminded of the night of Karina’s Christmas concert and curse both our gloves for separating our skin.

“I love your painting. It’s a true work of art,” Peeta says and I snort. “You don’t think so?”

“No.”

“It’s amazing because I know this was a little out of your comfort zone, but you did it anyways. For me.” I shrug and Peeta turns in the seat to face me. “Please don’t make light of this Katniss. I mean it. You put yourself out there for me and it means a lot to me, especially considering what you went through two days ago.”

“I told you,” I say. “I wanted to thank you.”

“This is far more than just a simple thank you. I’ve missed painting and tonight was…well it was like getting a piece of myself back that I’d forgotten was even there,” he says, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it. Yep. These gloves are bastards.

“Let’s go home,” I say before I resort to giving him head in a parking lot. Peeta let’s go of my hand to let me drive.

When we reach the house, I’m expecting Karina to bound down the stairs or burst into the kitchen to greet us, but of course, she’s with Felicity. Peeta sways on his feet, having consumed the better part of a bottle of wine. I manage to get his canvas out of his hand and propped against the wall in the foyer along with mine while we get our hats, gloves, and boots off.

He sways into me and our torsos press together as he regains equilibrium. Breathing ceases to be important as we watch one another, waiting for the balance to tip. His eyes skim over my face, lingering on my lips. I glance up and see it then. Mistletoe.

“What are you looking at?” he whispers and I point up. He sighs when he sees it. “I thought I told Karina to take all of those down.”

“She missed one.” I grip the open edges of his coat and press my lips to the corner of his mouth. I stay there until I’m dizzy with the heat of his skin beneath my lips and the sounds of him breathing. The warm scent that’s his alone and no cologne could ever compete with. I let my eyes drift shut and savor the curl of his fingers on my hips until I have to pull back for air. I take a deep breath and kiss along his jaw to his chin, down his throat.

“Katniss,” he breathes, and I brace myself for the pain. His fingers flex on my hips, once, twice, tug me into him. I lift my head to look up at him, his eyes glassy pools. Peeta rests his forehead on mine. He’s practically panting, his words uttered in broken phrases.

“You have no idea -- how much I want -- to kiss you right now. No idea at all.” I close my eyes again to wait for his lips, for the kiss I know I need as mush as he says he wants it. His fingers grip tight and he sighs. “But I won’t. Not tonight.”

“Why not?” I ask, eyes open and scowling at him. He lifts a hand and cups my cheek, his thumb arcing down to my lips where it traces the curves.

“Because I drank a fair amount tonight and I want to be stone cold sober the first time we kiss,” he says. “I want to be completely aware so I can remember everything about kissing these lips. Everything, Katniss. From how you’ll feel in my arms to the taste of your tongue to the sounds we make if we can’t control ourselves. I’ve spent too much time thinking about this to rush it.”

My lips part and his thumb slips through the seam, tugging down and now we’re both panting. The finest wine couldn’t warm me the way Peeta’s words do.

“And if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making a study of how to kiss you, just how you like it. Learning all those secrets of yours.” I smile and Peeta’s thumb slips from my mouth. He pulls his hand away from my cheek and his fingers curl, his hand trembles, like he’s struggling to keep from touching me. As much as I want him to, he has a point.

I want him stone cold sober for this, too. I don’t want alcohol to be the reason or the catalyst that pushes us into a place we both seem to want to go. I’d rather walk into it with him, hand in hand and fully aware of the choices we’re making. So I kiss his jaw one last time for tonight.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say and duck beneath his arm to go upstairs.

Once I’m in bed, though, I can’t get to sleep. I’m too caught up in thought. On a hunch, I pick up my phone and type out a text to Peeta.

**_You owe me a kiss in the morning_ **

****

**_Just one?_ **

****

**_To start with_ **

****

**_You’re right. We should move slow_ **

****

**_So no one gets hurt, including Karina_ **

****

**_Katniss, what are we doing?_ **

****

**_Texting. :-p_ **

****

**_Smart ass. You know what I mean._ **

I debate the prudence of telling him everything that I’ve figured out about my feelings the past few weeks, but decide that it’s still too soon.

**_I don’t know yet_ **

He doesn’t respond, and I lay awake until close to midnight, worrying that maybe I’ve already screwed it up.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter and toss aside my sheets. “He’s right down the damn hallway.”

I pad down the darkened hall to Peeta’s room, using the flashlight on my phone to illuminate the bed. Peeta lays on his side, one arm flung out in front of him, his phone resting on top of that limp hand. The other arm curls up over his head. He’s fast asleep. The entire picture is too inviting for me to ignore. I set both of our phones on the nightstand and climb into bed beside him. He doesn’t budge, so I rest my head on his outstretched arm and wiggle my way against his chest. I close my eyes and sigh in contentment. Here, I can sleep soundly. Just before I drift off, Peeta shifts in his sleep. His arm wraps around me and holds me close.


	17. December 16th - Of How I Feel For You

**_December 16 th – Of How I Feel for You_ **

Soft piano notes gradually draw me out of slumber. For a moment, I am disoriented. I remain motionless on my side, listening to the music, refusing to open my eyes just yet, instead attempting to gather information about my surroundings. Incredible warmth, a sense of calm belonging, and a familiar scent that tickles on the edges of memories and dreams alike.

 _Peeta_ , I think just as he shifts in front of me. The music stops and then all is silent except for the faint sound of my own breathing. I know he’s awake, so I slowly open my eyes to face him.

He’s watching me, blue eyes clear of both sleep and alcohol, making me wonder if he woke long before his alarm and simply didn’t wake me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, a hesitant smile curling up one side of his mouth. “I don’t remember you being here when I fell asleep last night.”

“I wasn’t,” I admit, biting my lip. I should probably feel shame for climbing into his bed uninvited, but I can’t bring myself to. I shift restlessly in the sheets. He doesn’t move. “How long have you been up?

“Long enough to know you make cute noises when you’re dreaming.” My face flushes and his smile emerges fully. “And they were happy dreams.”

“How could you know that?”

“You weren’t scowling.” Of course, this makes me scowl, wondering if he somehow knows that my dreams involved him. Then he winks, laughing when I smack him in the face with one of his pillows. While he’s still beneath the pillow, I untangle myself from the sheets.

“Be right back,” I say over my shoulder. Peeta lifts himself up on his elbow to watch me leave the room, his smile wavering and his hair tousled from sleep. I hate to leave him, but I need a moment of privacy.

Instead of using his bathroom, I head down the hall to Karina’s. My things are in there anyways. While I’m brushing my teeth, nerves rear their ugly head. He and Karina mean the world to me, and while I’d like to think it will be a simple transition from friends to lovers, I know that’s not always the case. I wish that I could simply crawl into his bed, kiss him senseless, demand that he fuck me senseless, and that would be it. But there are things that need to be talked about, feelings and such. And I’m not very good at feelings.

I consider jumping in the shower and then hiding in my room until Karina gets back, but I know that I’ve run out of places to hide. I kissed him last night. Perhaps not full on the mouth, but the intent of that kiss would be difficult to mistake. Then I basically begged him to kiss me back after he admitted to wanting to kiss me.

I blow out a deep breath and face myself in the mirror. I still look like I just crawled out of bed. I consider fixing my hair or putting on lip-gloss or some other such nonsense, but if he can’t love me like this then I guess he can’t really love me.

Spinning on my heel, I walk back down the hall. Peeta’s sitting up in bed, the blankets up to his waist and his hair still a temptingly adorable mess. He’s just finishing up a phone call and sets his phone back on the nightstand as I crawl under the covers, laying down and pulling them up to my nose. Peeta looks down at me and we stare at one another for a minute or so.

Who ends the silence, I wonder.

“That was my mom,” he says, head tilting towards the phone.

“Oh?”

“She’s taking Karina out for a nice breakfast and then they’re going shopping.”

“Sounds like fun,” I say and Peeta gives me a doubtful look.

“We’re invited to meet them for lunch,” he says.

Lunch. That’s a lot of time alone with Peeta. It means Karina won’t be saving me from this conversation with an opportune interruption.

“I told her I’d let them know, since I wasn’t sure what your plans are for the day,” he continues and lays down so that we’re facing each other, our heads even on the pillows, two feet of space between us. Right. Because whatever is said between us next could make things unbearable. Peeta reaches out, his fingers toying with a few strands of my hair, brushing them back off my face. The motion relaxes me.

“How much do you remember from last night?”

“All of it. I didn’t drink _that_ much,” he says.

“Why did you want to kiss me?” I blurt out. Peeta’s hand freezes for a moment. “I mean, that night that Karina put mistletoe all over the house, you looked almost…appalled to be kissing me.”

“Appalled?” he asks, incredulity clear in his tone. He shakes his head and rests his palm on my cheek. I reach up and place my hand over his to keep it there. “No, Katniss. God no. I was terrified that night. Worried that she’d pushed too hard and made you uncomfortable.”

“She didn’t. I wasn’t,” I murmur and Peeta licks his lips. “Not entirely, at least. Were you?”

He chuckles and my cheeks heat, but he moves closer. “I was insanely uncomfortable. But only because I wanted to kiss more than your cheeks. I wanted to kiss your lips. Your neck. Lower. I wanted the kisses to last a lifetime, not just a fleeting moment. I’ve wanted to kiss you like that for ages. And it’s a little awkward to be having those kinds of thoughts along with the physical reaction to them with my twelve year old daughter in the room. Even more so when I honestly believed that you would never want those kinds of kisses from me.”

 _So why aren’t we kissing right now?_ I want to ask. Now that he knows how much I do want those kinds of kisses, I can tell he’s hesitating and I don’t know why.

“What I wouldn’t give to be able to read your mind right now,” Peeta whispers. He searches my eyes. We’re both looking for answers or maybe waiting for the other one to take the leap. I know the feel of his lips on my skin, but not on my lips. I know that he loves me, but not if it’s a love that extends past the boundaries of friendship. It’s fine if it doesn’t, I just want to know. Apparently so does Peeta. “Why’d you climb in my bed, Katniss?”

“You’re warm,” I tease and he shakes his head.

“You’re one of the two most important people in my life and I can’t afford to take a risk that might cost me your friendship. But I feel like I’ve been standing on the sidelines waiting for a chance. I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you or Karina, or let you down,” I whisper and Peeta smiles.

“I seriously doubt that you could let either one of us down unless you ran away without a word of explanation. Somehow, I can’t see you doing that.” I’m worried that he thinks too highly of me, but he’s gone back to playing with my hair and my body responds to the deep rumbles of his voice, to the sensations along my scalp.

“Still,” I reiterate as he scoots closer, “We should take this slow.”

“Slow sounds good,” he murmurs, his nose brushing up the bridge of mine then back down. My eyes drift shut and I reach out, place my palm on his chest to feel his heart beat.

“Are you sober now, Peeta?” I whine and he laughs, the sound soft and wonderful against my lips.

“Completely. Should I go get some mistletoe?”

My hand clenches into a fist and tugs on his shirt. Our lips enfold, the briefest flutter of satin before he pulls back. So sweet and slow and soft, I’m left wanting. I make a noise of protest in my throat and open my eyes. There’s a ring of gold around the edges of his irises. Like a summer sky. Mine gray like winter. That’s all I have time to notice or think about before he returns his lips to mine, this time with more pressure. My ears start ringing and a fever runs through my body as our lips slide together. Insistent. And it feels so good, so right, that when he pulls away again, I gasp in shock.

His blue eyes are hazy, lids heavy, but his smile tells me all I need to know. I whimper his name and follow him, desperate for more.

“Thought you only wanted one to start with.”

“Start is done. Moving on,” I say.

Our mouths clumsily smash back together. We roll in the sheets, arms and legs and hands akimbo until we’re flush together. I run my fingers through his hair, scrape his scalp and hum with his responding moans. I can’t get enough. It feels like neither can he. Years of pent up desire explode in this one little kiss. He rolls on top of me and I wrap my legs around him, bunching and tangling sheets and not giving a damn because holy hell can he kiss. His lips breathe life into me, stroking awake a hunger deep inside me. The kisses meet my need then make it grow, blooming out to the edges of my being. What kind of idiot let him go?

Peeta’s hand pushes down on my hip for just a second before skimming up my side, beneath my shirt. _Yes, touch me._ I try to beg wordlessly through the kiss as his palm burns its way up my ribs then back down. Up, down, taunting me with how close he’s getting to where I want him. I clamp my legs around him and we both groan as his hard cock presses against my core.

More. I need more. So I part my lips and sigh in relief when his tongue sweeps through my mouth without hesitation. There are too many layers between us. I grab fistfuls of shirt on his back and tug upwards. Claw at the skin that I’ve uncovered. Bracing my feet on the backs of his legs, I writhe beneath him, searching for the end of this hunger. I’m so blinded by it that I don’t notice when he lifts his head. Not until he tries to roll off me, muttering curses.

My hold on him prevents him from getting far, but his hands tugging on mine finally cuts through the thick blanket of desire covering my eyes.

“We need to stop,” he says through heavy breaths. I make a few garbled noises that make him smile down at me. He kisses the tip of my nose and I growl at him. “We said slow, remember hellcat?”

“I’m not sure I like this plan anymore,” I mutter but release my grip on him. He doesn’t move at all but remains cradled between my thighs. Leans down to whisper in my ear.

“It’s taking everything I have not to tear off these pants of yours and fucking lose my mind with my face between your thighs, Katniss. But if we’re trying to be smart and take things slow…” He doesn’t finish, sucking on my earlobe instead and making the situation more frustrating.

“Slow is a relative term,” I complain. He laughs, kisses right behind my ear and pushes himself off of me. He doesn’t go far, sitting on the bed beside where I lay, still yearning for his lips, his body, his heart.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bed,” he says, the disbelief plain in his tone. He gestures to the space between us. “I never thought this would actually happen.”

“Is it so hard to believe?” I ask, shifting to my side to face him better.

“A little,” he says. I pluck at the sheets and wait for him to explain, but he seems reluctant to do so. Instead I focus on something he said earlier.

“You said you’ve wanted to kiss me like that for ages. How long is ‘ages,’ Peeta?”

“At least a year,” he says. “Maybe longer.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“This really what you want to talk about?”

“Unless you want to get back over here and kiss me again,” I say, lifting my shoulder slightly.

“Fair enough,” he says, and then he bends over to join our lips. I’m caught off guard, but catch up quick enough to return the kiss. At least for a moment before he ends it, with a broad smile on his face.

“Sorry. I’m not sure how long you’re going to allow this, so I plan on kissing you as often as you’ll let me,” he says. Then he sighs heavily. “The thing is, I’ve cared about you for a long time. You were my friend when everything felt like it was falling apart at the seams. You stuck around to help me sew it all back together. Then when the dust finally settled about a year ago and I thought I could take a chance with my heart again… I knew that I wanted to take that chance with you.”

“But you still waited to say something,” I press. “You went out with plenty of other women instead.” Peeta looks down at his hands and nods.

“That’s…kind of complicated. Part of it was you but mostly it was me.” In the pause, I lift an eyebrow and motion for him to continue. “You’ve always made it clear that you weren’t interested in marriage, a family, love. I was trying to respect that, force myself to maybe fall for someone else.”

“How’d that work out for you?” I ask, a little more harshly than is necessary, but Peeta smiles.

“It didn’t work at all,” he admits. “That’s why I gave up this past June. It wasn’t fair to them, Karina, or to me, and just caused more stress than it was worth.”

“And the part that was you?”

“Besides being scared out of my mind that I’d drive you away?” he asks teasingly, then he sobers and answers for real. “Because when I really examined my feelings for you, they didn’t look all that different than they did when I was still married to Glimmer. At first, I thought my feelings for you were in rebound. You were there for me when no one else was, it was only natural for me to feel that way about you, but time didn’t erase it. Then I thought the reason I felt that way about you before the divorce was because I subconsciously knew things weren’t working with Glimmer. But again, that should have faded over time as well.

“It became impossible for me to figure out where loving you started or ended. It just…was a piece of me, tangled up with everything else and a knot that I couldn’t unravel. I thought…I thought that made me a shitty husband, a terrible friend, and a worthless person. I was supposed to be focusing on fixing things with Glimmer but in hindsight, I was already in love with you. And even though she was unfaithful and this seems like a moot point, I’m not sure anymore if I tried my best to salvage my marriage to her. You deserve better than that, Katniss. You deserve _someone_ better than me.”

I’m both foolishly happy and slightly terrified. It’s a lot to take in. Almost too much. I can feel panic rising up in me, winning out over the giddiness, and know that I need to get out of the room.

“Katniss?” he asks, worry plain on his face. He’s been open and honest with me, and the depth of what he’s revealed frightens me a little.

“I’m okay,” I try to reassure him, even as I’m standing from the bed. “It’s just…”

“A lot to deal with,” Peeta says with a nod. His understanding only makes me feel worse.

“I’m gonna take a shower and then maybe get some breakfast,” I mumble and Peeta rakes a hand through his hair, unmoving from his spot on the bed where we kissed just moments ago.

“Whatever you need, Katniss,” he says. I slip from the room and back to the guest room. Take my time getting a shower, but under the steaming spray, I examine Peeta’s words, turning them over and over. And the thing is, when I look closely at my own feelings for him, I run into the same problem. There’s no real line to be drawn between before his divorce and after. The divorce itself, even his marriage, didn’t prevent me from forming an attachment to him, maybe not even from falling in love with him.

Perhaps it makes him despicable, but at least I’m despicable too. I shut off the water and dress quickly, braiding back my still wet hair to seek him out as soon as possible. I find him in the kitchen, already showered and dressed himself, and fixing a pot of oatmeal. He looks up as I walk in and opens his mouth, but before he can start talking, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him down to me.

The kiss is neither gentle nor sweet. It’s meant to make a point. Although I might still need some space and time to process what’s happening between us, I’m done running from my fears. It’s time to face them. And I need to know if he’s going to face his too.

His spoon clatters to the counter and his hands cup my cheeks. Our bodies may remain separated. We're only connected by lips and hands, but he kisses me back with as much ferocity as I’m giving. It’s exactly what I need.

I’d keep kissing him if there wasn’t food on the burner or if my stomach didn’t choose that moment to make it’s needs known. Peeta chuckles and kisses me once on the forehead before returning his attention to the food. We work together and although our conversation makes one or two awkward starts, eventually, we find the rhythm of life that we’ve both grown accustomed to with each other. So much so that when he brings up lunch with his mother and Karina again, I don’t hesitate to say that I’d love to join them.


	18. December 17th - I'm Gonna Risk It All

It’s harder than it looks. Going slow, that is.

In the early hours of the morning, I lay in the guest room bed. The sheets still carry a bit of the chill from remaining empty all night. I haven’t been in them long enough to get them to a cozy temperature. With a grumble, I shift my legs, using the friction to warm them faster. Peeta’s heavy footsteps traverse the hall and he knocks on Karina’s door. The deep rumble of his voice stirs the simmering arousal I’ve felt since waking in his arms with his lips on the back of my neck.

I listen to his footsteps as he heads downstairs, no doubt to start breakfast. A moment later, Karina’s lighter steps skip down the hallway accompanied by her humming. A door shuts and the shower starts. I’ve got at least fifteen minutes before she vacates the bathroom for me to use. It’s almost too much time to think.

After breakfast yesterday, Peeta and I agreed not to tell Karina about the new development in our relationship just yet. Both of us are concerned about getting her hopes up only to have them crushed if this doesn’t work out between us. Not to mention the fact that if we’d told her, our wedding would be booked and planned by this evening. 

While lunch with her and Felicity went well, we’re now convinced that Karina’s been playing cupid. Not only that, certain events at lunch -- along with what I observed several days ago -- clued me in that Felicity is acting as her accomplice. When Peeta and I spoke about it while Karina was on the phone with Meaghan, he’d cringed and muttered that he must be pretty pathetic indeed if his mother and daughter are trying to set him up. I silenced his words with kisses that left us both breathless. And when we had to knock it off or get caught, I suggested Peeta at least tell his mother what was going on and enlist her help in slowing down Karina’s plotting.

We filled the afternoon yesterday with final preparations for the City Council meeting tomorrow night. Peeta’s been a lifesaver with that, not just because he’s helped raise money and awareness but because he knows almost everyone in this town. Even if he doesn’t know them directly, he’s like Kevin Bacon. I can connect anyone in this town to Peeta in six steps or less. Which means he’s a well of information and if nothing else, Peeta’s confidence that we’ll succeed tomorrow night has kept me from pulling out my hair or chewing my nails down to nubs.

The only downside to Peeta’s unwavering support is that it serves as a crucible for my desire for him. All afternoon, there were stolen kisses, secret touches, and plenty of heated looks when Karina wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t in the room. Each brush of fingers or lips, every sweet sentence or bolstering action of his added a twig to the fire. I’ve managed to keep tight control on it – restricting myself to some heated kissing when I climbed into his bed last night. We agreed to slow. We agreed not to tell Karina yet. But now that we both know how the other feels, I’m not certain how much longer we’ll be content to hold back.

The guest room bed isn’t just cold without Peeta in it. It’s lonely. I grab one of the pillows and curl myself around it. The overstuffed bit of fluff does nothing to satisfy. And in fact, the more I indulge myself in memories of kisses and caresses, the worse my situation grows.

I’m strung high and needy, drawn tight with desire for Peeta. I’m practically blind with it. What I really need is a quick release, but where would I go to take care of that? It just feels too weird to rub one out in Karina’s shower. Same thing with the guest bedroom. While the sheets undoubtedly get washed between uses, I’m not the only one who uses this bed. His brothers do too when they come to visit. Sometimes Felicity will sleep here. It’s not private enough for me to be comfortable.

_ Peeta’s bed. _

The wicked thought enters my brain in a flash. I don’t even consider how horrible the idea is. The potential for it to backfire. I wait until I hear Karina clomp her way downstairs to slip down the hallway. I pause at the head of the stairs, long enough to hear Peeta’s voice answering hers, and then lock myself in his room.

I’m hyperventilating when I burrow in the sheets. I rub my hands together to warm them and then slip them straight inside my panties. My fingers glance off before I get them seated on my clit, I’m just so fucking wet. Something about doing this here, in Peeta’s bed, speeds me straight for the edge. I rub circles until my thighs ache and my hips jerk. And then finally, I crest with a soft squeak, curling into a tight ball around my hands clamped between my thighs.

I lay there until the air beneath the blankets is muggy and reality sets in. I just masturbated in Peeta’s bed. Without him here or even knowing. Something is wrong with me.

Flinging aside the covers, I hurry back towards the safety of the guest room, gather my things, and then take a steaming hot shower, scrubbing my skin frantically. Can you wash desire out of your skin? I’m not sure that I want to. That orgasm was real but I’m still unsatisfied, hollowed out and aching for something more. For Peeta. With a sigh, I get out and dressed, join them in the kitchen.

One look at Peeta in his grey pajama pants and dark blue Henley sleep shirt, smiling at Karina as she talks and he fixes eggs Benedict, I know. This isn’t a desire I want to scrub out of my skin. And it’s not just a desire for kisses or sex or even a home filled with voices and laughter instead of my apartment for one. It’s him. All of him and all the extras he comes with.

I’m just not sure how much longer I’ll be able to wait without it driving me insane.

“There you are,” he greets when he sees me. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mostly,” I say and he gives me a strange look. I smirk and he turns back to the eggs while I grab a loaf of bread and slice it to make toast. Karina is busy squeezing out the orange juice so I take the chance to check out Peeta’s ass and the flex of his arm muscles while he works. He catches me staring and returns the perusal, finishing it off with a slow, sexy smile.

I wonder if the pantry is sound proof.

No, I have got to stop that, I scold myself. Or at least reduce the number of times I think about banging his brains out during a single day.

As we sit down to eat, I check the weather on my phone, because weather is an excellent mood killer. “That storm is pushing further south than they expected.”

“Is it supposed to hit us here?” Peeta asks and I nod.

“Looks like it. Later tonight. You may want to make a run to the grocery store today while we’re at the food bank.”

“Anything special you ladies want me to pick up?”

“Oh! Stuff for that lamb stew Katniss made while you were sick, and maybe hot cocoa,” Karina suggests.

_ Condoms, _ I think but manage to stifle it.  _ Chocolate syrup and whipped cream to lick off your abs. _

“Can’t think of anything specific,” I say with a shrug.

Shortly after, Karina and I are elbow deep in sorting food and stocking shelves. Peeta stops by with a load of bread from the bakery. Normally we carry a limited amount of fresh goods, but with the holidays, our demand for perishables increases. Peeta’s never hesitated to help provide. With the storm approaching, we’re especially busy at the food bank. Most of the day speeds by in that way that only the days leading up to a highly anticipated event can. We’re so busy that I lose track of time and we wind up staying an hour past our usual shift ends. I’m not even the one to notice it.

**_Hey, you two okay? Clouds are starting to look a bit nasty,_ ** Peeta texts me, drawing my attention to the time on my phone. Since the food bank doesn’t have windows, I pull up my weather app and cringe.

**_Lost track of time. It’s been busy here. We’re on our way in a sec,_ ** I send back. I gather up Karina and Bristel announces that we’re closing early so everyone can get home before the storm hits. We stick around a few minutes longer to help out, and by the time we climb into my truck, fat flakes have already started to fall and the wind has picked up.

Peeta’s waiting for us when we pull into the driveway. He must have been watching from the front window.

“Hey girls,” he greets us, pulling us both into a hug before we even have time to take off our snow boots. “I’ve got hot cocoa on the stove.”

Outside, the wind howls and the snow swirls wildly before landing in drifts, only to be blown straight back into the air. Inside, we’re a strange picture of domesticity. After dinner, we migrate into the living room. Karina perches in the window seat, arms crossed and forehead pressed to the glass as she watches the spectacle. Her notebook sits next to her, closed and free of the loose sheets of paper that stuffed it last time I saw it. I’ve been going over my notes for tomorrow, Peeta’s sketching and helping me here and there. The glow of the tree gives the room a cozy air. That and the plethora of blankets that can be found in almost every corner of Peeta’s house. It’s one of the things I love about this place.

“Yuck,” Karina comments on the weather at one point. She picks up her notebook and flips through it. Scribbles something then erases it. Tries again. She taps her pencil on her teeth and then sticks it between the pages to mark her spot before setting the closed notebook aside. “We should do something.”

“What do you have in mind, Kare-Bear?” Peeta asks.

“You’ll see,” she says and Peeta and I share a look. I’ve already clued him in that I think she’s keeping her matchmaking notes in that purple spiral bound book of schemes. So whatever is coming next is sure to be another one of her plots.

_ Still too soon? _ I mouth and he glances between us. Before he can answer, Karina’s got music playing.

“Dance with me, Daddy?” she asks. He doesn’t need to be asked twice but sets aside his sketchbook and starts spinning around the room with her to  _ Run Run Rudolph.  _ It isn’t long before he lifts her off the ground and she squeals. By the end of the song, we’re all laughing and Karina is rosy cheeked.

“Okay, Katniss’ turn,” she says, plopping down on the couch and feigning exhaustion as she wedges her feet beneath me to get me off the cushion.

“What? I don’t think—” but my words are lost as Peeta basically yanks me off the couch and into his arms. I scowl up at him and he grins.

“Relax, Everdeen. I promise not to step on your toes,” he says as the next song begins. Of course, it’s something slow. A lovely trumpet, piano, and bass trio rendition of  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas _ .

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I mutter as we move slowly through the cramped space. I can feel Karina’s eyes on us and keep mine on Peeta’s shoulder where my hand rests. But the longer we dance, our socked feet silent on the rug, the more I relax. Peeta’s hand slides up my back and then he swings me around into a dip. I laugh and cling to his shoulders, finally managing to look into his eyes as he brings me back upright. The dance barely takes any effort, and yet my heart is pounding.

I’m starting to wonder if Karina isn’t part witch when, with a loud whoosh, all the lights go out and the music stops. The only sound for a few seconds is the storm outside.

“That can’t be good,” Peeta says. He drops his hand from my back and shifts our already joined hands to lace our fingers together. “Karina?”

“Over here, Dad,” her voice comes from the direction of the couch.

“There’s a flashlight in the kitchen,” he says and starts shuffling towards Karina. I follow and hold out my free had to feel for the couch. “Katniss, stay with Karina while I go get it?”

“Yep,” I say as we reach the couch. Karina’s hands find me and she helps me sit next to her. I’m barely settled before she curls into my side and we listen to Peeta’s heavy steps as he makes his way to the kitchen, bumping into furniture as he goes.

“Motherf—” he hisses at one point, cutting the curse short. I snort then cover my laugh.

“Are we going to be okay?” Karina asks, her voice tremulous.

“Sure. As soon as your dad gets back, we can close doors and curtains to preserve heat, gather the blankets, and the three of us will sleep in here tonight.”

“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

A moment later, a flashlight beam sweeps across the floor. “Everyone okay?”

“We’re fine,” Karina answers bravely.

“I’ve got candles, too.” Peeta says and sets several on the end table next to where we sit. He squeezes my hand and kisses the top of Karina’s head, ruffling her hair for a second. After I make a few suggestions, we divide and conquer. Karina and I take the flashlight, working our way through the house to shut all the curtains, blinds, and the interior doors. While we’re upstairs, Karina and I change into pajamas. We gather up blankets and pillows from the beds. By the time we make it back to the living room, Peeta’s got about a dozen candles set up and lit.

“Well this is cozy,” I say as I hand him a stack of blankets. Once they’re spread on the floor and the three of us ensconced in their warmth, Peeta places a call to the power company.

“I doubt they’ll send anyone out in this, but at least we’re on the list for them to fix tomorrow,” Peeta says.

“So now what?” Karina asks, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Anyone have playing cards?” I ask, almost as a joke.

“Actually…” Peeta shifts and digs through their ottoman which doubles as storage until he produces a jumbled deck of cards. “I think this might be something like two and a half decks smashed together. Not much good for poker or solitaire.”

“It’d work for Go Fish or Bullshit,” I suggest.

“Bullshit?” Karina asks and Peeta sighs.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s not like she’s never heard that word before,” he laughs and shuffles the cards. “Alright, circle up. We’ll give Bullshit a try.”

“How do you play?” Karina asks. I give a quick rundown of the rules. “So the point is to lie?”

“Basically,” Peeta says as he deals out the cards and gives me a knowing grin. “Katniss is a terrible liar.”

Karina rubs her hands together and picks up her cards.

“This should be interesting,” I say. “Since it’s more than one deck, it’ll be easier to lie.”

“We’ll see.” Peeta picks up one card and sets it in the middle. “One ace.”

The game begins, proceeding around the circle twice until Karina sets down her two cards and says, “Three eights.”

“Bullshit,” Peeta says and her eyes go wide. She reaches down and flips over the cards she just set down. Three eights stare Peeta in the face. “What?”

Karina and I laugh and Peeta shakes his head as he gathers the pile.

“Your curfew just got reduced,” he says with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t even have one yet, Dad,” she taunts.

“Keep it up, Kare-Bear,” he teases back.

We pick up speed, round the circle again we go. “Two queens”

“Bullshit,” Peeta calls on me. My cheeks heat and I groan but gather up the cards from the pile.

Other than being inconsistently able to tell when Karina is lying, Peeta’s pretty good at this game. His hand steadily dwindles, so we know he’s got to be bluffing but it’s difficult to tell when. It’s almost unnerving how well he can read me. Also frustrating, as I keep having to juggle my growing pile of cards thanks to him. Karina starts to call “Bullshit” on Peeta every one of his turns.

“I think you’re having too much fun with the cursing, young lady,” he says, flipping over his one Jack. She shrugs and gathers the cards with a happy smile on her face. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I’m teaching this game to Meaghan,” she informs us and Peeta groans.

“Madge is gonna kill me,” he says.

“One queen,” Karina informs us and sets her card down, looking expectantly at Peeta. He looks at me and I shrug. Then I calmly set down two cards. Somehow, I have zero kings this time.

“Two kings,” I say as serenely as possible.

“Bullshit,” Peeta says automatically.

“How are you doing that?” I ask angrily and snatch the cards back up.

“Because your bluffs are marshmallows and I am on fire,” he says, tossing down three cards. “Three aces.”

“Bullshit!” Karina shouts gleefully. Peeta waves at the cards and she turns them over, groaning comically and adding them to her pile. In the end, Peeta takes the round. It’s getting late and Karina is yawning. Peeta gets her tucked into the pile of blankets, but I’m wide awake and determined to get the better of him this time.

“Another round?” I ask and Peeta nods. He shuffles the mixed deck and grins.

“This’ll give you a fighting chance,” he says and I scowl half-heartedly at him. It is admittedly easier for me this time around. With only two players, I can sniff out Peeta’s lies much quicker. We’re evenly matched. As I watch him in the candlelight, it feels much more intimate and more like flirting than just passing the time. A low humming stirs to life in my blood. It doesn’t fade as we trade the lead back and forth along with harmless banter in whispered tones because Karina is asleep. The longer we play, the more the humming grows, strengthens – a mellower version of the need that drove me to touch myself in his bed this morning but somehow more potent.

“Two aces,” I murmur and set the cards down.

“Bullshit,” he responds.

“Now why would you say that?” I ask.

“You’re blushing,” he says, leaning towards me. “And biting your lip.”

I don’t tell him that my responses have nothing to do with the game. I want him to kiss me again. I want so much more than kissing this time. Instead, I shrug.

“Look for yourself.” 

He hesitates. Then flips the cards and sucks in a breath.

“Who can’t lie, Peeta?” I tug the blankets tighter around my body. It’s starting to get cold in the house, but at least the wind has died down outside.

“Come here,” he urges. 

The cards are pushed aside, forgotten as we huddle together for warmth beneath the blankets. He’s so close and yet so far away. Untouchable with Karina burrowed right next to us. His hands roam over me, warming me. The touches chaste at first. Then his hands slide beneath my shirt to trace lazy patterns over my ribs and my back. Desire pulses inside me and I bury my face in his throat, holding on for warmth and comfort. Tucked in his arms and hidden from Karina’s view even if she wakes, I kiss his neck. Slow, tantalizing caresses to match the ones of his hands on my skin.

I throw a leg over his hip and Peeta’s arms pull me closer. Close enough to feel him growing hard. We rock slightly, although we push no further than our soft caresses and kisses. He murmurs my name at one point, sounding almost desperate. A warm shiver dances down my spine and I relax into the touches.

Karina shifts in her sleep and Peeta’s hands go still. We stare at one another for a moment until we’re certain that she’s not awake. Peeta slides his hand out from beneath my shirt and tugs it back into place. I try not to let the disappointment get the best of me as I remove my leg from atop him and put some space between us, the exact opposite of what I really want. Our hands find each other beneath the blankets and remain there, clasped between us. I close my eyes with the intent of sleeping, and Peeta brushes a soft kiss over my lips.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this going slow plan,” he whispers and I smile slightly.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Speed is a relative quantity,” I murmur around my yawn.

The whir of the power returning and the lights flickering back on wakes me. I startle and Peeta sits up, looking around the room, disoriented. Based on the height of the candles, we couldn’t have been out for long, though. The heater kicks on and this seems to bring Peeta to his senses.

“We should get her up to her bed in a minute. Once the heater’s caught back up.” I nod and take a deep breath before leaving the warm cocoon of blankets. We blow out candles and Peeta turns off the Christmas tree. Clean up the kitchen and spend a few minutes tidying up the living room. He lifts Karina into his arms, cradling her and the pile of blankets covering her against his chest. I grab her pillow and turn out lights as we make our way upstairs. By the time we reach her room, the heater has warmed it enough that she’ll be okay.

I set up her pillow and Peeta lays her on the bed, smoothing back her hair as she rolls away into her most comfortable sleeping position. We tip toe out to the hallway and stand between her room and his. The guest room is probably still cold. She’s already asleep so there’s no real reason for me to even go into it or pretend that I’m not just going to climb into Peeta’s bed to sleep tonight.

“Did you want to…?” he trails off, thumb over his shoulder motioning towards his room.

“Yeah,” I say with a slight nod. “It’ll be warmer that way.”

“Is that all I’m good for to you?” Peeta whispers with a teasing smile. “To warm your bed?”

“Well,” I drag the word out and Peeta’s smile widens. “That and you keep me stocked in cheese buns.”

“You’re blushing and biting your lip again, Katniss,” he murmurs. A truck drives by outside. The snow continues to accumulate but not nearly at the rate of the tension building in this small space. Karina makes a noise in her sleep and then falls silent. 

“We should get to sleep,” he whispers.

“I’m...not tired,” I tell him. And I’m not after our short nap downstairs and the flurry of activity right after waking. I’m wide awake now.

Peeta and I don’t look away from one another, and I wonder if he feels this constant background arousal like I’ve been feeling all day long. I teeter on the edge of it, and then -- we plunge.

We meet in the middle in a clumsy attempt at a kiss. Someone moans. Someone trips. And then my hands hold tight to his shirt as we manage to kiss like we might know what we’re doing. Our feet stumble down the hall, into his room. Peeta’s knees hit the bed and we tumble onto it, knocking teeth as we work our way up it until he’s reclining on the pillows and I straddle him. Hooking my feet over his thighs, I rock my hips, rubbing myself all over his groin. He’s already hard again and I grind on him without shame.

We’re careening out of control and I’ve no wish to stop or slow us down this time. He doesn’t seem to either. I get my hands under his shirt, running them over his skin, hungry to touch all of him. I want his shirt off. To see and touch and taste unobstructed. But I also want to keep humping him like a fucking teenager because I’m aroused out of my mind and need him so badly. 

His hands slide down my back, over the curve of my ass. He grabs a handful, kneading the flesh and driving me faster, higher until I can’t control my moans and have to stop kissing him only to nuzzle his neck and suck on the flesh where his scent is the strongest. 

“Fuck, Katniss,” he whispers in a choked voice, one arm wrapping around my waist and crushing me to him. His other hand curves the rest of the way over my ass, between my spread thighs to my core. “Oh fuck, I want you. I don’t want to stop.”

His words are music to my ears, and together with his touch as he rubs me over my clothes, they strum my desire to a pitch I won’t be able to hold back. I’m aching with need to the point that my belly almost hurts with it.

I sit up and Peeta cries out, his eyes hooded and his hands reaching to bring me back to him. He struggles to sit up and follow me until I tear my shirt off my body and throw it across the room. His palms switch direction and cover my breasts. He curses again and I shiver once before smashing my mouth to his, sending us flopping back flat on the mattress, caught in a wild kiss and even wilder writhing. I wedge my hands between us and work his belt loose, slide it from its loops. The sounds of the buckle adding to the symphony we’re writing.

Peeta grabs my shoulders and pulls me off of him. “Katniss, wait. Before we go any further...I don’t have anything.”

“What?”

“I don’t have anything for protection,” he admits, sounding as if he’s in physical pain.

It’s a hard crash from the height I’m at. It takes me a moment to form thoughts or words around the denial of what I crave most right now. “But you were at the store today. Why didn’t you get any then?”

He gapes at me for a moment or two and I groan, flinging myself off of him. 

“I thought about it. I just… didn’t want to assume,” Peeta says and I nod. I stare at the ceiling for a moment then cover my eyes with both arms. Trying to cool my fevered body. Maybe a minute later, I feel Peeta rolling over beside me and I remove my arms from my eyes, but I don’t open them yet.

“Katniss,” he whispers, the tip of his finger tracing over the bridge of my nose. “I still don’t want to stop.” He outlines my lips. “I don’t want to stop until I know how to make you sigh, scream, and sing my name in pleasure. I don’t want to stop until I can make come until you forget how to pronounce my name. There’s so many things I want to do with you. We don’t have to stop yet. Unless you want to.”

The clouds of desire finally parts enough to understand what he’s suggesting. My brain somehow acknowledges that this at least looks less frantic than where I thought we were headed, so it maintains our agreement to take things slow. My body screams in agreement and the need to at least take this  _ somewhere. _ I grip the sheets beneath me.

“Keep talking, Peeta,” I beg.  _ And don’t stop touching me _ , I want to add.

“I could,” Peeta murmurs, touching the rest of his fingers to my lower lip. “I could spend hours describing all the ways I’ve wanted to touch you for the last year. All the things I’ve dreamed of and fantasized.” His fingers trail over my chin, down my neck as my chest heaves with the effort to pull in enough air.

“Or,” he says as his hand slides off me and loosens my grip on the sheets, twining our fingers together and kissing my knuckles. His other arm slides beneath my neck so he can caress my shoulder and pull me closer. I open my eyes finally and look up into his, dark and full of promise, looking over me with more harnessed desire than I’ve ever seen before. My entire body thrums at the potential for that desire could do if unleashed. “Or I could actually do something constructive with my mouth.”

Even though I half expect it, I still moan into his mouth when his covers mine. We skip chaste this time, diving right into the refrain. Noisy and frantic and so fucking good, I squeeze his hand and arch my neck to get closer. But it’s not what I need anymore and I whimper when his fingers pry themselves free of mine until his hand lands on my breast. 

This is an acceptable diversion, I decide. Except it quickly becomes too much or not enough. Each soft caress of his fingers around my bare nipple strings me up higher. My hand moves around uselessly until it finds Peeta’s hair and holds his lips to mine. As soon as I relax into this, his mouth leaves mine and I protest again only to have those silenced as his mouth replaces his hand on my breast. His hand skimming, fingers splayed and palm flat, down my body. My legs fall open for him long before he reaches my panties.

“Peeta, please,” I beg in a soft squeak. He moans around my nipple and sucks it until I’m arching on the bed, yanking on his hair, and choking back a wanton scream. His hand roams over my panties, soothing the ache in my lips for an instant before I realize there’s still a layer of cotton between his skin and mine. He rubs back and forth while I’m so far aroused I can’t think straight enough to demand of him what I want. What I need.

Just when I’m certain I’ll go insane, he shifts and settles with his hips between my thighs. Now kissing my neck and finding every last nerve that leads straight to my clit. I mutter mindlessly, twist his hair around my fingers and rake my nails over his shoulder.

“I think you need to re-evaluate your definition of slow,” Peeta teases and I let loose a string of expletives cursing his idea of foreplay as torture and making him laugh.

 

“Glad to see you find this funny. Stop fucking teasing me,” I demand angrily. Without another word, he kisses his way down my body, each touch of his lips corresponding to a single  _ Yes _ breathed out of my lips, driving him lower until he peels off my pajama pants and kneels between my open legs. He slips one finger through the leg of my panties and out the other side, pulling the fabric away from my body. I watch with desperation as he runs his finger along the strip of fabric, a little embarrassed about what I know he’ll feel. I’ve been uncomfortably wet all day and now I’m soaking.

 

“Holy shit, Katniss,” he breaths lifting his gaze to mine. I want to shove him away and pull him closer. “I can’t wait any longer to taste you.”

 

He pulls my panties aside and I bite my lip to hold back my shout of triumph. I brace myself for him to fucking devour me. He sounds about as desperate as I feel right now. His hands pin my thighs to the bed as he lays down on his stomach and lowers his head. My entire body tenses and my pulse pounds in anticipation. Eyes locked on mine, he swirls his tongue at the base of my labia and then takes one. Long. Slow. Lick. Up to my clit.

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

Everything he does to me is slow. The gentle massaging of my thighs. The exploration of his tongue as he delves into my pussy. The powerful sucks of my clit. Oh god the massaging of my lips with his. He kisses me the same way he kissed my mouth. Thorough, deep, and he’s driving me either insane or towards a mindblowing orgasm. Probably both. I grip the sheets and buck my hips, quietly pleading with him to let me come. To give me that last push I need.

 

Only I don’t get it. Not yet.

 

Peeta sits up and wraps his hands around the waist of my panties, tugging until I lift my hips and he rips them off, flings them aside, muttering something I don’t catch before his hands once more pin me open and his mouth returns to my folds.

 

His tongue finds my clit again, flicking madly until I’m on fire and arched on his bed. My hands slam into his headboard and remain, bracing my body against the unending stream of pleasure flooding my system. My mouth hangs open as I close my throat as best I can to stifle what I suspect would be ear piercing wails. My toes curl until my feet cramp. And still, I remain suspended over the edge.

 

Peeta slips his fingers inside me and massages my front walls. Colors flare to life behind my eyelids. Sensation bursts along my veins. Then I come. And I can’t stop. So I don’t even try to contain it.

 

I revel in the bliss taking over my body, shuddering and gasping and groaning his name over and over with each wave as it crests and ebbs until I’m left a pile of limp flesh on his sheets. My hand lands heavily on his head and awkwardly plays with his hair as I recover. He’s still tonguing me, slowly kissing me back down as I relax into the euphoria of a post orgasm high.

 

Eventually, Peeta sits back on his haunches and wipes the mess I made off his face before licking it off his palm, all the while watching me. For the first time in my life, with Peeta looking at me like this, I feel truly beautiful, radiant, sexy, and powerful. I want him to feel the same way I do right now. To know how I see him.

 

Before I can do anything about that, he shifts up the bed with a self-satisfied grin, gathers me in his arms, and holds me close. Me cuddle for a few moments, and I can’t stop the thought that this could be my life. It wouldn’t take that much to insert me into living here permanently, 

 

“Do you need anything?” Peeta asks after my skin has cooled a little and my heart has stopped racing.

 

“Maybe some water,” I tell him and he nods. I’m still in a daze when he comes back with a cup and as I sip, I notice that he must have unfastened his jeans at some point while he went down on me. Probably to relieve pressure if what I’m looking at now is any indication. Because holy mother of dicks. The bulging outline of his erection would be hard to miss even if my eyes weren’t automatically drawn there in curiosity and the need to make him feel as good as he just did me. It’s one thing to make estimates based on the feel of him through layers of clothes. But this is hard, solid evidence staring me in the face. He’s thick and long and pointing up and slightly to the right beneath his red boxer briefs, his open jeans framing him perfectly. 

 

I’m brazenly staring at his crotch and his hand drops to cover the obvious sign of his arousal. 

 

I take the water, gulping half of it down while he mumbles an apology and points towards the bathroom. “Sorry. I’ll um just be a minute.”

 

I am not about to let him go jerk off in the shower and deny me the chance to make him come. Setting aside the glass, I catch his hand before he can vanish. I manage to rise to my knees and face him.

 

“Or you could stay,” I say. With the hand not holding him in place, I reach out and grip the waist of his jeans, pulling him closer to the bed. His abs twitch against the backs of my fingers. “Lose the clothes, Peeta.”

 

“Are you sure?” he whispers and all I can manage is a nod.

 

He let’s go of my hand to obey my wishes. Together, we remove the shirt first. As it falls to the floor, I skim my hands up over the planes of his chest, across his shoulders then back down his ribs. His fingers brush absently over the softer sections around his waist and when I look up at his face, he can’t quite meet my eyes. 

 

“I know I’m not...not exactly a hard body,” he whispers. 

 

“Are you serious?” I ask incredulously. Maybe he’s not ripped, but his strength is evident in his broad shoulders and in his movements. Besides, I’m not exactly swimsuit model material. Age has a way of making the body softer, rounder. But on Peeta’s body, I see the evidence of life being lived, not the “letting go” that Glimmer apparently accused him of. 

 

I don’t want her in the bedroom with us, not even as a specter. I’ll just have to show him how gorgeous I think he his.

 

Flattening my palms on his abs, I smile for just a second before I lean over to lick a circle around one pink nipple. Slow, the way he did to me. Peeta sucks in a breath and his fingers weave through my hair, massaging my scalp one handed as I pepper kisses and soft nips over his chest.

 

While I’m occupied with kissing him from shoulders to hips, he unravels my braid. His fingers gently comb through my hair, almost distracting me from my goal, but I manage to keep my focus and get his pants and boxers down around his hips. He helps me with one hand. His clock springs free and screw going slow. My recently sated body greedily demands a ride on that. Soon. 

 

I want to complain again about him not getting condoms today, but that would do no one any good. Instead, I wrap my hand around him, rubbing my thumb on the tip, coating it with his precum. He pulses in my hand and soft curses fall from his lips.

 

“Katniss, I won’t last long if you keep touching me like that.”

 

“Like what?” I ask innocently. I pump him once, hard enough to make his knees buckle and land on the edge of the bed. Bracing one palm in the bed, I bend on hands and knees and lick around his head. He grips my ribs, fingers digging in as he lets loose a stuttering moan. Emboldened, I suck on the tip until he’s pushing on my shoulders and mumbling that his legs aren’t gonna hold him. 

 

I scoot back on the bed and he joins me. Hauling me upright on my knees to kiss my mouth. Naked skin to skin with nothing between us, the kiss is everything. I’m aroused and humbled by it. Made both weak and strong. Peeta seems similarly affected, groaning my name as he kisses my throat and caresses my back. As much as I want to keep kissing him, I’m not done with him yet.

 

Wriggling free of his embrace, I shift my knees back and resume my earlier position, slide my my mouth over him, holding myself up with one hand while the other strokes his cock. 

 

Peeta gathers my hair, his touch gentle as he twists it around one fist to hold out of my way as I suck as hard as I dare. His grunts of pleasure spur me on, taking him deeper until my fist and mouth meet. His hips rock. He caresses over my back, and I can tell he’s holding back.

 

Relaxing my jaw, I push myself forward until I have to let go of his cock to make space for my mouth and my nose hits his pelvis. His hand yanks on my hair and he shouts. His body arches back away from me, but his hips roll up into my mouth. Still, he doesn’t come. I growl in frustration and pull back. Grabbing cock once more, I’m relentless, determined to make him explode in my mouth.

 

Peeta’s groans turn primal and he tugs on my hair again, a garbled warning breathless in the night as I once more take him deep, reach between his legs to grab his ass and keep him in my throat. His hand leaves my back and twists in the sheets behind him. I catch just a glimpse of his face, contorted with pleasurable agony, before his cum fills my mouth and his cock pulses against my tongue. I gulp it down like nectar, although I can’t swallow all of it. Some of it sneaks out from under my lips and coats his balls. I suck and swallow until he stops coming and his legs give out, sending him down hard to rest on his haunches. 

 

As he brought me down from my high, I leisurely lick him clean, enjoying the shudders that wrack his body as I do so, and the look of mingled awe and satisfaction in his blue eyes as he watches me.

 

When I’m done, he pulls me up by my hair and kisses me breathless and thoughtless. I fall back into the mattress, Peeta bracing our fall. Our legs twist until we’re both comfortable. He managed to untangle his hand from my hair and caresses my cheek, brushes the hair back from my face.

 

“I’m gonna miss this when your apartment is fixed. Sleeping next to you, waking up with you in my arms,” Peeta whispers.He opens his mouth to say something else, but a yawn covers the words. He’s fading fast. 

 

I pull up the covers and we wrap ourselves around one another, exhausted and sated for now. He slips away first, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I pluck at an errant curl on his forehead and twist it around my fingers. Kiss his mouth, even though I know he won’t be returning the kiss. I’m not sure what he was about to say, but I’m starting realize that I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I’ve always valued my independence, though. The whole thing just confuses me, so I resolve to deal with it in the morning when I’m fresh and recharged.


	19. December 18th - I'm Not Afraid to Fall

I don’t stop moving. With the storm, my office didn’t even open until ten in the morning. I’ve been playing catch up all day. Also, if I stop moving, I might panic. Right now, panicking is the last thing I need to do. I stare at the crowd slowly trickling into the community center, my foot bouncing on the floorboard of my truck and my thumb nail shredded in my teeth. 

I knew I should have gotten something to eat. I’ve barely eaten all day and now I’m stuck in that weird nausea where I need to but can’t because I feel like I may vomit but the longer I wait to eat, the worse the nausea.

There’s so many of them. So many people. I wasn’t expecting this much response. Turning off the truck makes it more real. In the absence of engine noise or the music I listened to on the way here, I can hear them. The sounds of laughter and conversation clear and resonating in the freezing air. I clench my hands together and stare at the building in front of me. The lights spilling from its windows almost blinding in the dark.

My phone startles me, vibrating in my cup holder with an incoming call. I pick it up and stare at Peeta’s name for a moment before answering. We’ve barely spoken since he left early this morning to open the bakery. The few times we did, it was always about the meeting tonight. Never about what happened last night.

“Hello?” I say as my stomach churns with an awful mixture of guilt, fear, hunger, and longing.

“Hey, we just got here. Ready to help.” I can hear Karina talking to someone in the background and footsteps crunching on snow. I glance up towards the door and think I spot him. Two girls skip along the sidewalk in front of him and a cluster of people follow behind.

“Oh. Great,” I say and swallow. The man I’m watching pauses for a second.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” I insist. Peeta stops on the sidewalk and motions for the others to go around him.

“Keep an eye on Karina for a second?” I hear him ask, his voice muffled a little, head turned away from the phone.

“Sure,” I hear Madge answer him and then Peeta motions to one member of the group who remains next to Peeta while the others proceed inside. 

“Alright, so nothing’s wrong. Where do you need us so we can help?”

“Peeta, I --” I say and can’t force out any more words.

“Let’s go with something simple then. Where are you right now?”

“In my truck,” I tell him and watch as his head turns to scan the parking lot. He’s looking in the wrong place, though. “More to your left.”

“How about you flash your headlights at me.”

“Peeta Mellark, this is not the time,” I scold and he laughs.

“Good point,” he says. Then when I’m still unable to move for the space of a few breaths, “Open the door at least?”

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“I know. It’ll be okay. You’ve worked so hard on this, Katniss. And all these people,” as I watch, he spreads his arm out to the side, indicating the people walking past him to get into the community center. “They’re all here to help. You’re not alone. And you have no idea the effect you can have.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but it sounds nice, like I’ve somehow inspired all of these people to come together. Still, I can’t seem to make my feet move. 

“Hey Katniss,” Peeta says

“Yeah?”

“It’s also  _ really  _ cold out here. Bet it’s a lot warmer inside,” he points towards the door, and by now I can tell he’s found my truck. His head pointed straight towards me, although it’s too dark for me to see his face clearly. He could walk over and force me inside but he doesn’t. He’s letting me be brave and telling me at the same time that he’s here to catch me if I fall.

With a deep breath, I open my door and step into the cold. I shiver but gather up my bag and get the door shut, the truck locked.

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“It’s gonna work. But if by some sick twist of fate it doesn’t, then we keep fighting it. Hell, we’ll organize a march on the state capital if that’s what it takes.”

For some reason, his suggestion fills my chest with a fiery warmth. I’m walking before I realize what I’m doing. Within moments, I’m standing in front of him and that’s when I notice who he kept outside with him. Cinna gives me a soft smile and reaches out to link his arm through mine.

“I hate talking to crowds,” I whisper to Cinna. “I feel so robotic and ridiculous up there. No one likes that.”

He already knows this about me, and Peeta’s so good at talking to people that I feel silly admitting it to him. He hears me anyways, but Cinna’s the one who answers.

“Well, I don’t think you’re robotic at all. You’re quite warm and spirited around me. And with Peeta,” he adds, guiding me towards the front door. I glance back for just a second, relaxing when I see Peeta following us. “I liked you almost as soon as we’d met, in fact.”

“I wasn’t trying to get you to like me,” I remind Cinna and he smiles.

“Exactly. So while you’re up there speaking, pretend that you’re talking to us. We’ll be right up there in the front row where you can see us if you need us. Alright?”

“Alright,” I agree as we walk through the doors. The dry heat hits my face and sucks the air from my lungs. The noise pounds its way beneath my skull. 

“I’ll go see about seats,” Cinna says, kissing my cheek and disappearing into the crowd. Without him beside me, panic rises swiftly.

But then Peeta’s fingers lace with mine and he squeezes my hand. The panic ebbs, sinking to the back of my brain. Bravery doesn’t seem quite so foolish with him by my side.

I squeeze back and take the first step, then the next, making my way through the crowd towards the front where I spot Johanna talking with Gale, a few of the park rangers, and a pinched face woman in a suit, who I think works for the mayor’s office.

There’s a long table set up with about a dozen chairs behind it, facing the crowd. Half a dozen microphones sit on the table, pointed towards the council seats. Two projector screens flank the table, angled so both council and audience can see at least one screen. In the center of the floor, a solitary microphone stands so that the speaker must face down the council.

Gale spots me first. He waves and says something, but I’m in a daze as we join the group. I nod when I think I’m supposed to and follow the woman from the mayor’s office. She sets up my laptop off to the side with lightning speed and then trots off, her gait swaying on her heels. I hear a low rumble and look over at Peeta. He still hasn’t left my side.

“What?” I ask him. He grips both my shoulders and massages them. My ears pop and the roar of the gathered crowd reaches me again.

“We should go sit down,” Peeta says. All I can do is nod because I’m starting to feel nauseous again. As we move towards the seats, Peeta leans over to whisper in my ear. His lips are close enough to tickle. “Gale said that the two on the far left -- Jones and Markham -- both have stock in the company trying to build the mall, so you won’t be able to sway them. The council chair, the guy with the weird mustache, the one in the purple shirt, and the woman third from the right are still undecided. Focus on them.”

I nod. We sit. The screens come to life with slides showing the agenda. The meeting starts. The council moves through a number of issues, glancing up with surprise every time someone from the gathered crowd requests floor time to weigh in on it, as though they aren’t used to this level of citizen participation. It strikes me as sad. People shouldn’t surrender their voice in a representative government. 

As the meeting progresses, I return to my senses. My stomach growls at one point and Peeta turns to someone behind us to whisper a question. He unwraps then pushes a granola bar into my hands and I devour it. Cinna pats my my knee. My stomach calms. Peeta holds my hand like he did at the concert. And by the time Blue Bell Lake is brought up as the next item on the agenda, I’m ready.

The council quickly outlines the plan to rezone half the acreage for commercial usage then opens the floor. The park rangers go first, detailing the need for the land to remain protected. Johanna follows them to cover some of the rare plants and trees that grow in the area, the effects of deforestation on erosion, pollution, and wildlife habitats. Dozens of private citizens discuss the sentimental reasons to preserve the lake and how much history of the town revolves around the area. Eventually, it’s my turn.

Peeta and Cinna give me one last squeeze each right before I stand on wobbling legs.

“And you are?” the council chair asks, rubbing his temples and glancing at his watch. I don’t think he expected this meeting to go for this long. In fact, they all look annoyed and tired.

“My name is Katniss Everdeen,” I say and have to clear my throat because I sound like I’ve got a chorus of frogs stuck in there. Whatever I do makes the microphone squeal and I know that I’m losing them before I even start. “My name is Katniss Everdeen. I work for the Fish and Wildlife Department. And my apologies. There aren’t many microphones where I work, although birds do usually squawk when I talk to them.”

A ripple of chuckles flows through the crowd behind me and I glance back over my shoulder. Peeta’s smiling at me and nods for me to keep going.

“I was going to tell you about the many species of animals that depend on Blue Bell Lake for their survival,” I say. I fumble for a moment with the microphone and get it free of its stand, walking towards the laptop and starting up my picture slideshow. The first one up is a rare fox. A chorus of “Aw’s” sounds in the audience. “They’re cute, and sometimes not.” I switch to an armadillo and then spot a remote next to my laptop. The crowd reacts as I expect to the armadillo and I use the remote to advance to the next picture. This is good. I can do this. My feet carry me back towards the middle. “Some are already rare, close to endangered.” A few whispers accompany my trio of pictures of mockingjays, a hybrid species that as far as we know, hasn’t spread far beyond the boundaries of Panem County. “But I can see that we’ve already talked your ears off about the lake and how much we want to preserve it. So maybe, if I can beg your indulgence one more moment, you’ll let me show you one more species that needs the lake.”

I skip through a dozen animals until Karina and Meaghan’s goofy faces fill the screen, snow clinging to their hair from a recent snowball fight. Gale skating with his son, Hunter. I talk about the feeling you get living in Panem, somewhere between the bustle of the big city and the stifling quiet of a small town. Leevy backpacking in spring flashes up on the screen. Johanna and half a dozen kids learning how to fish with Mags and a few park rangers. Bristel with her kids on mountain bikes. On and on it goes, the audience laughing or commenting in hushed tones on each image. Peeta’s eyes meet mine for a second and I take a deep breath.

“I know that times are tough right now for everyone. Even the state and the city are searching for sources of income. But I’m asking you, the council for the City of Panem to think about what you’d be surrendering if you gave up Blue Bell Lake as a resource. It may temporarily bring in a large wad of cash from the sale, but then what? As it is, Blue Bell Lake is a steady, if moderate, source of income for both the city and the state, as well as a valuable source of employment. There are ways we can make it more productive without paving it over to build a mall.”

I tick off a few of the ideas I’ve heard bounced around over the past week, knowing that at this point, I’ve probably lost the council, but I’m not thinking of that anymore. I’m thinking about what Peeta said. Marching on the state capital and how to rouse enough of the people here to keep going in this fight. It’s no longer about the short term, but the long term.

“There’s already summer camps on the western shore for scout troops. With a few improvements, they could become year round camps. We could offer them to scouts outside of Panem, Capitol City, or even further. The Valentine’s Day sleigh rides the PTA used to host as a fundraiser in the city but no longer can thanks to new laws could be held on the beginner horseback trails. School field trips for science classes. Horseback riding, ice skating, or archery lessons.” I keep going as long as I can. I’m about out of ideas when I risk a look at the council. Several of them are nodding their heads or looking speculatively at the series of pictures still rolling, back through the animals with the facts I’d carefully selected to accompany my speech and didn’t even use. I hadn’t realized that I’d scrolled through all the pictures already or that I’d kept pushing the button to advance. “Ultimately, Blue Bell Lake can be more than a responsibility, but also a valuable resource and a cornerstone of our community. If we are brave enough to say ‘no’ to the quick cash or the easy way.”

There’s a few minutes of silence and I mutter a, “Thank you for your time.”

I think I hear applause, but I can’t be sure as I shove the microphone into the hands of a man in a suit, who looks perturbed, haughty, and bored all at once. I practically fall into the chair next to Peeta and the man takes the floor.

“You were great,” Cinna whispers and Peeta wraps an arm around me. I lean into him and close my eyes to just breathe. My hands are shaking and my pulse pounds. Now that the adrenaline is fading, my body takes itself through the fear response.

“I really hate public speaking,” I mutter and Peeta bites back a chuckle.

“You looked like a natural to me,” he says and I scoff. “No idea at all.”

The slick guy in a suit turns out to be a representative of the company looking to buy and raze my lake. I hate him already, but his greasy mannerisms and charts on projected revenue make me want to gouge out his tongue. He paints a promising picture of future riches for the city that will be difficult for the council to ignore. When he’s done, he bows to the council.

“Thank you, Mr. Crane,” the council chair states and looks up and down the line. “If there are no more speakers...I move for the council to now vote on the matter of rezoning the Blue Bell Lake area for commercial usage.”

“I second the motion.”

Someone behind me whistles a four note tune. A mockingjay song. There’s an overwhelming shuffling noise in the crowd and the eyes of every council member widen. I look behind me and gasp. Almost every person in the room holds up a protest sign. Some plead for the rescue of the lake, others for the saving of the animals, some simply protest the building of the mall.

Peeta’s right. No matter what happens tonight, we can find a way to channel this, to take it to the state and make our voices heard.

“All those in favor,” the council chair states in a shaky voice. 

A handful of voices say, “Aye.”

“All those opposed,” the chair states and meets my eyes for a second. He smiles at me as a stronger chorus of “Nay” sounds, including one from him. “Miss Cardew?”

“Three in favor, nine opposed,” the woman with the pinched face informs him.

“Very well, the Nays have it. The council moves to retain the current zoning for Blue Bell Lake. Next item on the agenda.”

They must cover at least two more topics, but I’m lost to it all, floating on euphoria. I might as well be drunk on success for all I notice the rest of the meeting until after it’s adjourned. I’m congratulated and hugged and spout off thanks to a million people as the community center empties. 

“Miss Everdeen,” a firm voice says and I spin to find myself face to face with Mayor Paylor. “I’d like to set an appointment with you for after the New Year. Feel free to bring a few of your associates. We’ll discuss your ideas at more length and see about building a case to put before the state. They still have some say in the matter unless we can sway their minds. We’ll need the kind of support you brought with you tonight to make it happen.”

“Yes,” I say after Peeta elbows me. She has an excellent point. This fight isn’t over yet. “Of course!”

“Call my office and Ms. Cardew will get you on the calendar,” she turns to the pinched face woman who hands over a business card. I grip it like a lifeline. “And keep the armadillo picture. I personally find them cute.”

“She would,” Johanna mutters as Paylor walks off.

Karina barrels over to me then and throws her arms around me. “You were awesome!”

“Thanks, Karina,” I say as I hug her back. Madge approaches our small group, looking a little nervous. Gale whispers something to her and she glares at him. He holds his hands up in surrender and she continues towards me.

“Katniss, could we get together for lunch or something tomorrow? I’d like to apologize for the way I acted last time we spoke.”

“Sure,” I tell her and she sighs in apparent relief, her face relaxing.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” I repeat and she smiles before gathering her brood and heading for the door.

“What was that about?” Peeta asks as Karina finally lets go of me, only to grab one of my hands and one of Peeta’s.

“I’ll tell you later,” I say. “Can we get something to eat before we go home?”

One pizza and salad dinner later, we make it back to the townhome. It’s already late. Karina showers and falls into her bed, having spent most of her day helping out at the bakery. By the time I get out of the shower, she’s sound asleep. Peeta’s already showered and in bed, his sketchbook propped on his knees and his face intense in his concentration. I shut the door and tiptoe to the side of the bed.

As soon as I lift the comforter, Peeta’s head snaps up and he smiles at me. Sets the sketchbook aside. Flips off the lamp. We settle back onto the pillows, Peeta’s arms wrapped around me. I can’t stop the content sigh as I close my eyes and let him warm me. His bed is a heaven of fluffy pillows and a thick comforter, soft flannel sheets and a deep rooted scent that makes me never want to leave its embrace. Warm and comforting, just like its primary occupant.

“What were you drawing?” I ask as Peeta starts brushing hair back off of my forehead. I love it when he does that.

“Not exactly sure yet,” he says and I hum, wriggling a little and sliding one hand beneath his shirt for warmth. “You wanna tell me why Madge is apologizing to you?”

“Because she yelled at me,” I tell him and yawn.

“Yelled at you? What for?” He sounds angry on my behalf and I kind of like it. Smiling to myself as I answer.

“For saying that she was trying to pimp you out to her friend, and that you wouldn’t kick me to the curb just so you could get laid.” Peeta’s hand stops and I open one eye, but I can’t see in the darkness.

“I’m somewhat curious exactly how this conversation started.”

I quickly give him a run down, after he resumes touching me. I yawn as soon as I’m done and shudder with the force of it, closing my eyes and thinking happily of sleep. Peeta’s unusually quiet as I finish. I’m so tired though that I’m asleep before I can ask him what he’s thinking.


	20. December 19th - I'm At Your Door

**_December 19 th – I’m At Your Door_ **

 

If I’d thought I’d get a break after the City Council meeting, I was clearly mistaken. I’ve unleashed a monster, galvanized a sleeping dragon. Our phones ring almost nonstop and plans are already in motion for petitioning the state for further protections on Blue Bell Lake so that not only will the mall fiasco fall through, but also to ensure something like this won’t happen in the near future. Others call for advice on how to jump start support for various other causes that have nothing to do with fish or wildlife. Plutarch is in heaven. I have to text Madge twice to postpone our lunch and by the time I finally leave, I’m frazzled and exhausted, hoping that my shot nerves don’t blow an already delicate situation through the roof.

 

We slept in this morning, and instead of getting the chance to talk with Peeta more, I found myself sneaking down the hall to avoid any pre-teen matchmaking ninjas who might have woken early. I’m starting to feel like we’re lying to her rather than protecting her. Add it to the list of things I need to talk to Peeta about.

 

“Man I could sure use a quickie over lunch,” Johanna grumbles as I pass her office. “Hey Brainless! You got Blondie on speed dial?”

 

“Not for you I don’t,” I say and gasp when her hand closes around my arm, nails digging into my coat. She spins me around to face her and I huff in annoyance.

 

“Are you telling me that you finally came to your senses and pet the Peeta Python?”

 

“The what? Don’t call it that!” I whisper hiss and yank my arm back from her.

 

“Oh please. Like you didn’t already know. It’s about the only nice thing his ex bitch ever said about him,” Johanna says with a roll of her eyes. She adopts a high pitched giggle and obnoxious simper, “Ohmahgawd girls! You should see the monster snake in my man’s pants! You’d all be sooooo jealous!”

 

I gape at her and shake my head. For some reason, it bothers me that Glimmer told the entire town about Peeta’s anatomy. I mean, she’s not wrong, but there’s so much more to him than that. Plus I feel all ragey at the mere thought of anyone besides me even _thinking_ about his dick, let alone the reminder that Glimmer got to enjoy him for years.

 

“I have to go,” I mutter, pulling my arm free of her grasp. “I’m meeting someone for lunch.”

 

“I bet you are. Enjoy yourself and don’t forget the raincoat,” Johanna says with an exaggerated wink and a crass pantomime. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

 

I make a fast escape, grateful for the solitude in my truck on the way to meet Madge. She’s already there when I reach the restaurant, nibbling on a chocolate bar that she wraps up and shoves in her purse as soon as she sees me.

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say as Madge hugs me. It’s nice to feel like I have my friend back. I hadn’t realized until right now how much I rely on her quiet support. “Work has been insane all morning.”

 

“A good insane?” Madge asks, releasing me so we can sit.

 

“Actually, yes,” I say and quickly relate what’s been going on. I leave out Johanna’s rude comments about Peeta.

 

“Would you mind if I add to your insanity?” Madge asks and then pulls out her phone. “I’ve been doing research and I found something that might interest you.”

 

I’m blown away within minutes at the level of detail she’s gone to researching non-profit coalitions and environmental protections. It’s the groundwork for keeping Blue Bell Lake safe for generations to come, both financially and legally.

 

“Anyways, I can email all of this to you. And maybe you’ll think of it as a peace offering? I shouldn’t have been so harsh or mean about it.”

 

But the thing is, if Madge hadn’t basically told me how Peeta felt about me, I’m not sure that I would have found the courage on my own to open up to him. We still have a ways to go, but we’d still be nowhere if it weren’t for Madge. Or maybe we would. I don’t know, but I shrug.

 

“I’m sorry for saying that you were trying to pimp him out. I know you were just trying to help him.”

 

“That’s exactly it. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin your friendship with Peeta. I know it means a lot to you both. I’m just glad we got this cleared up before anything went too far.”

 

“Wait...before what went too far?” I ask and Madge blinks at me.

 

“Uh between you and Peeta,” she says. I clearly don’t follow since I thought the whole point of her tirade was to get Peeta and I to maybe take things further. “Gale explained it all to me.”

 

“Gale? What does Gale have to do with this?”

 

“Well, when I yelled at you last week, I thought that maybe you had feelings for Peeta the same way he felt for you. I’ve thought that for awhile now. But Gale explained that you’re just really protective of everyone you care about, including your friends, and that sometimes looks like love instead. He said that I needed to be careful because if I made you feel sorry for Peeta, you might act out on something that isn’t really there. I don’t know, he made it sound logical when he explained it. Something about you being more affectionate when someone you care about is in pain. Which makes sense, I mean I cuddle the kids more when they’re hurting. Given what Peeta’s gone through in the past few years, he’s definitely been hurting. I was worried you weren’t willing to open your heart, but Gale made it clear that I should have been worried about Peeta misinterpreting your signals. You guys seemed to be acting normal last night though and...Katniss?”

 

My hands feel clammy and cold. Anger sparks to a frightening height in my veins. Does Gale really think I’m that manipulative? All those things he said when we were kids and trying to make something more out of our friendship that just wasn’t there. I thought he said them in anger to hurt me. I didn’t think he’d actually believed them.

 

“What did he think I was going to do? Fuck Peeta to make him feel better and then smash both his and Karina’s hearts?”

 

Madge reaches for my hand and glances around at the other patrons.

 

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Katniss,” she soothes. “I just meant that I misinterpreted some of your actions is all. I thought you were scared or reluctant, not indifferent. But Gale’s known you a lot longer than I have.”

 

“No, you didn’t misinterpret anything,” I say because this this is getting out of hand and I’m too stunned to even discuss what Gale told her. Madge’s brow creases.

 

“I didn’t?”

 

“We’ve been...taking things slow. Trying to work it out so no one gets hurt.” As soon as I say it, I feel relief. I hadn’t realized how much keeping all of this in was weighing on me until I let it all loose. Then something awful occurs to me. “Wait, did Gale tell any of this shit to Peeta?”

 

“I don’t know,” Madge says.

 

“I have to go,” I tell her, tears stinging my eyes. Gale and I had our issues when we were younger, but that was years ago. I thought we just didn’t work together. But now I’m learning Gale thought I never really cared about him. That I pretended to care because I felt sorry for him or felt that I owed him, and that now I’m doing the same thing to Peeta.

 

Madge tries to talk me down, but I gather my things and leave, not caring that I haven’t even eaten anything. I drive myself to the bakery and square my shoulders before entering. Rue greets me and I stand on my toes to see past her into the kitchen.

 

“He’s not here,” she says.

 

“Huh?” I ask.

 

“Peeta,” Rue says with half a smile and a knowing look. “Something came up with Karina and they took off early.”

 

“Oh. Thanks,” I say. Then because I feel stupid for barging in here for no reason, I buy one of their cheese buns and hurry back out to my truck. I tear into the cheese bun as I drive towards Peeta’s, pretending that the fluffy pastry is Gale’s head.

 

I march into the house just as Peeta’s coming down the stairs. I glance behind him and don’t see Karina.

 

“Where’s Karina?” I ask without greeting him.

 

“She’s upstairs resting.”

 

“Is she okay?” I ask and Peeta actually smiles.

 

“She’ll be fine,” he tells me. “She’s not sick or anything.”

 

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” I blurt out. I sound angry, furious and I can’t seem to stop how I’m trembling.

 

Peeta’s eyebrows lift up his forehead and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked at all by my outburst. Which makes this a hundred times worse. Gale did talk to him, maybe warned him off of me.

 

“Should I even bother asking how lunch went with Madge?” he says and I scowl at him.

 

“I didn’t stick around long enough to eat.”

 

“That good, huh?” He shakes his head and smiles. “Come on. Let’s get some food in you. I’m sure I’ve got something in the kitchen that’ll hit the spot. There’s not much in this world that’s more intimidating than a hangry Katniss Everdeen.”

 

“I am not hangry!” I shout and he just smirks at me. “Fine. But you better have something with cheese.”

 

“Of course I do,” he says and sets to work making us grilled cheese sandwiches. I sit in one of the stools and chew on an already destroyed nail while I watch him cooking for a few minutes. He seems so calm, completely unmoved by my earlier outburst. Until I notice that his hand is shaking slightly. Or that he keeps glancing up at me and then away the second our eyes meet, as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish or start yelling.

 

“Did Gale ever warn you about me?” I ask and Peeta purses his lips but then he nods. I swear under my breath, muttering that I’m going to skewer Gale with an arrow. “What exactly did he say? And when?”

 

“Just that you’ve got forty foot walls around your heart and you mistake pity for affection.”

 

“Oh that’s all?” I ask and Peeta shrugs then flips our sandwiches. They sizzle pleasantly and the aroma tickles my senses. My mouth waters in anticipation.

 

“It was last year, around Thanksgiving, so right before my failed dating experiments. I didn’t want to believe what he’d said,” Peeta murmurs. “I mean, at first I told myself I didn’t care. I couldn’t care because I was still so conflicted about how I felt about you. Since then, it’s always been in the back of my head, which is why I hated it every time things just fell apart around you. Me getting sick right after the custody changes and so many other things. And I’ll admit that when you told me what Madge said to you last night and I realized it would have been right before you kissed me…”

 

“You thought it might be true. And the reason I kissed you,” I finish and he nods as he scoops the sandwiches out of the pan and drops them onto the cutting board. He chops up a few veggies and adds them to the pan with some more oil and seasoning.

 

“Somewhere in there, I thought maybe you did it because you were afraid of losing Karina if I started dating again. I know you care about her. You have to know, Katniss, that no matter what happens between you and me, as long as you want to be around Karina and she wants you around, I will never take that away from either of you. I wanted to talk to you about all of this this morning—“

 

“But we overslept,” I say and hug myself. Peeta doesn’t answer. “If she’s not sick, what’s up with Karina?”

 

“She um, well she started her period this afternoon,” Peeta whispers. “But I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you that, so…”

 

“Secret is safe with me,” I promise him and he smiles. “How’s she doing? Do you need me to go get anything from the store?”

 

“No, we went a few months ago. Bought one of almost everything and tried them all out so she could figure out what was most comfortable for her. Then we stocked up so we were prepared. She’s laying down with an electric heating pad and listening to music. The Midol should kick in here soon.”

 

“Wow,” I say and cross my arms on the counter. “You’re taking this pretty well for a single dad.”

 

“I’m freaking out inside,” he whispers conspiratorially.

 

“Because you had to go shopping for pads?”

 

“Because she’s growing up. Next she’s going to be screaming that she hates me and sneaking out her window at night to go to a Slipknot concert with some punk who’s got a tongue ring and calls me ‘Dude.’”

 

I laugh and he smiles, spooning our veggies onto plates. I watch as he slices the sandwiches and take a deep breath.

 

“I didn’t kiss you because I felt sorry for you. Or because I thought you were in pain. Or because I was afraid of losing Katina.”

 

“Then why did you kiss me?” he asks and hands over my plate. It feels like such an ordinary conversation, being held over lunch in his kitchen, instead of one that could destroy us both.

 

“Because you’re you,” I say and he stares at me with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. It’s not enough of an explanation. I know that. But I can’t seem to unstick the rest of it.

 

“I’m...what? A thirty two year old divorcee and a single dad whose daughter has now officially hit puberty? A poor schmuck whose ex wife cheated on him for years while he thought everything was okay, or at least fixable? I’ve heard them all Katniss. Stupid, worthless, oblivious, overly inflated ego if he thought a girl like that could ever want him?”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” I argue and he tilts his head at me.

 

“It’s the truth.”

 

“No, you’re a thirty-two year old man whose daughter adores him so much that she’s plotting twenty-four seven to find you love and happiness. You’re a loving single father who has no problem learning how to braid hair or googling different kinds of pads and articles on female puberty — don’t argue!” I say when he opens his mouth to contradict me. “You’re an amazing father, Peeta. Karina’s lucky to have you.”

 

He blinks at me and I sit back down. I hadn’t realized I’d stood out of my chair.

 

“You’re funny and sweet and handsome. You’re a baker who gives freely, a painter with an eye for beauty, and you’re the one person I always know will be there for me. Because that’s what you do. You take care of the people you love. And Glimmer was the stupid one for not realizing what she had.”

 

I’m not sure what I expect, but narrowed blue eyes and a scowl isn’t it. “What about you? All your jokes about being a grouchy hermit and a perpetual spinster?”

 

“I am a spinster,” I say and roll my eyes.

 

“Not to me, you aren’t. There’s at least two dozen guys in this town who would leap at the chance to be with you, including me, but that doesn’t even matter. You don’t need them or their desires to make you extraordinary. You’re a skilled scientist and an inspiration to this city. Spirited and fiercely protective to the point that you gave up everything to take care of your mother and sister, you’re smart, beautiful beyond belief, and so far out of my league that I shouldn’t even be allowed to —“

 

I grab his collar and yank him across the island until his lips crash into mine. His palms smack into the counter for balance. We’re both breathing harshly when I loosen my grip and he backs away just enough for us to look into each other’s eyes.

 

“Bullshit,” I say and quirk an eyebrow at him. He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them up to hold mine locked in place.

 

“Katniss...What are we doing here? Where does this end?” He whispers the questions and I let go of his shirt. I flounder for an answer, the one that keeps ringing in my head is choking me into silence. To say it would make it real. Peeta sighs again. “You don’t have to answer that right now. I shouldn't have asked. These past few days with you have been some of the happiest I’ve had in a long time and I wish they didn’t have to end.”

 

“Me too, Peeta,” I say. He cups my cheek in his palm and I lean into the touch, enjoying the warmth and gentleness.

 

“I’ve been trying not to push for answers so fast that I push you away. If we’d met years ago, maybe I could afford to be patient indefinitely, but it’s not just me that I have to worry about.”

 

“Karina,” I say and he nods.

 

“Your apartment is supposed to be ready tomorrow. I can explain you leaving to her, I think, if that’s what you want. Maybe...maybe you’ll use the break from us to think about this?”

 

“I can do that,” I promise and he smiles.

 

“That’s all I’m asking for right now.”


	21. December 20th - With Nothing More

In the woods, the only voices I usually hear are nature’s and my own. I close my eyes and catalogue as many as I can. Migrating geese honking overhead, the low whistle of the wind through the pines. The rustle of a forager in the underbrush. The sunlight on the snow makes me squint when I open my eyes again. Light bends through the icicles hanging from a nearby berry bush. It’s cold, stark, and blessedly quiet.

I didn’t actually need to trek this far into the woods for work today, but I’ve got so many voices in my head right now, confusing the path ahead, that I needed the quiet. I cling to the warm tumbler of tea in my hands, the heat seeping through my gloves to my skin. It’ll burn my mouth if I drink just yet. So I sit. And wait. Listening to no one and enjoying every second of it.

I love being out here, with nothing but myself, the woods, and the memories of my father. He’s everywhere out here, but in a way that brings joy, not the sorrow of his death or the agony of watching my mother waste away or the crushing pressure of filling the void they both left in Prim’s life. Out here, I can remember that love doesn’t have to end in pain.

Usually I would bring my bow with me when I venture this far into the woods. Only, I left it in my apartment last week. Now I feel unbalanced without it. Maybe because when I was lost as a child, I would look to my father for guidance, and I can’t remember my father without picturing his own bow held loose in his hand, tapping his leg as we walked these very trails.

So many voices in my head, but not the ones I most want to hear. One is gone and the other is the source of my current quandary. What should I do? After hours of sitting out here, I am no closer to a satisfactory answer.

“Damnit,” I mutter and force myself to stand, to make the four mile hike back down through the hills to the trailhead where I parked my truck. Shockingly, there’s a car parked next to it, a cloud of exhaust rising up behind it as the driver leaves it idling. As I get closer, the engine stops and recognition dawns on me before the driver even exits the vehicle.

“Hey,” Prim says tentatively.

“Hey,” I say and unlock my truck to toss my bag onto the passenger seat.

“Thought I’d find you out here. This used to be your favorite trail. Cell reception out here still sucks, by the way,” she says, her hands stuffed into her pockets. “I tried calling a couple times.”

“What do you need, Prim?” I ask, probably a little harshly. She did apologize the day after the fire, and it was an accident. Somehow, though, I’m still a little peeved with her.

“I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I was worried about you.”

“You could’ve called at any point in the past week,” I remind her. “If you don’t tell me your rotation schedules, I’m not gonna call and risk interrupting your sleep.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says, sounding forlorn. I manage not to sigh. It takes a lot of effort.

“What’s going on this time?”

“I um, Mom said that your apartment is supposed to be ready today,” she says, rocking on her heels. “Are you...excited to be moving back home?”

I snort and slam the truck door to face her. “I suppose.”

“Staying with Peeta must’ve been nice, though. I’m sure he’d take good care of you, right?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, a sudden wave of sadness washing over me that I can’t account for. “Yeah, it was pretty nice.”

“Is there...anything I can do to help get you settled?”

“No, Prim, it’s fine,” I tell her.

“I really am sorry about the fire,” she says with a loud sniffle and I break.

“Come here,” I say and pull her into my arms. “You’re such a pain.”

“You love me,” she says, voice muffled in my heavy coat.

“Still eludes me as to why,” I say and she laughs a little.

“I’m a delight,” she protests.

“Sure, sure. That’s what all your progress reports used to say, but I think you bribed those teachers.”

We hold each other for a few minutes, swaying in the cold while the geese continue their flight to warmer climes.

“At least let me buy you a couch,” she says as she releases me, wiping at her eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” I insist.

“Please? You’ve always taken good care of me. Please let me do this,” she says, then her eyes widen. “Katniss, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” I say and smile at her. Too late, I feel what tipped her off streaking down my cheek.

“You’re... _crying!_ ” I swipe at my face, desperate to hide the evidence as Prim gawks at me. I’m not heartless. I cry, but as I paw ineffectually at the moisture and more continues to fall, I realize that I’ve never really cried in front of Prim.

I find myself in the odd predicament of bawling into my baby sister’s coat as she holds me close and rocks me, soothes me. It’s so weird that it only serves as a sledgehammer breaking the dam in front of everything I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. Maybe even the past year since I had that dream about Peeta and started bottling up everything in regards to him.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me, Katniss,” Prim says as I sob and sob.

“I don’t know!” I wail and throw my hands out to the side. Prim doesn’t let go of me so I motion in the air to our sides as words pour out of my mouth. I can’t stop the verbal flood as I tell my baby sister about my worries over the fire, and the lake, all the recent stress at work. All the things I’ve learned about Glimmer and how scared I am. Peeta and Karina and all the people who’ve been pushing us one direction or another and how confused I am. Even some repressed anger at Mom spills out into the puffy nylon of her coat.

“I spent years telling myself I didn’t want kids! I’d be an awful mother! But now I don’t think I want to move back into my apartment, but it’s t-t-t-too soon for that! And I miss Dad!”

When I finally run out of words, she doesn’t say a word, just strokes my hair while I cry like an idiot and the woods echo with my wretched sobs. Slowly, with great effort, I manage to get myself under control.

“Say something, Prim,” I order and she shrugs, her shoulder bouncing off my nose. We both laugh awkwardly as we step apart and I dig in my pockets for anything that could double as a tissue.

“Here,” she manages to produce an actual tissue and I stare at it for a moment before I’m able to take it. “I wish I knew what to say, but I think that right now, the last thing you need is another person talking at you about your life. Not to mention, mine’s such a mess at the moment that I’d advise against taking any advice from me.”

“How are things with Rory?” I ask, suddenly guilty that I didn’t even bother to ask when I first saw her.

“Not important right now,” she shrugs it off. “We’re talking about you.”

“Could we not?” I ask and blow my nose loudly.

“You sound like a goose when you do that,” she teases and to punctuate her point, another flock honks across the sky.

“Who taught you manners?”

“My overbearing older sister. But you were one heck of a replacement mom.” I stare at her and she kicks some snow to the side. “I never really acknowledged how much you did for us after Dad died. I think I was too young to understand, and then when I did, I didn’t know what to say. But I know you gave up a lot, so maybe I do know what to say right now. You should do what makes you happy, Katniss. You deserve it.”

“So does Peeta,” I say and Prim smiles.

“Well lucky for you, it sounds like right now, the same things will make you both happy.”

“Karina…”

“I turned out okay. Mostly,” Prim says with a goofy face. “So will Karina as long as you two work together to love her and take care of her. Which is something you both already do.”

I think about her words for a moment and then let them fade away, and strangely enough, they take all the other voices with them, leaving only the pounding of my heart in my ears.

“God you’re annoying,” I say and she shrugs again.

“And you’re a dork.” As one, our arms go around each other and we hug. “Will it help you feel better if I tell you that I had Buttercup neutered the other day?”

I laugh and maybe snort a little. “Yes.”

“You sadistic fiend. I love you. Will I see you at Mom and Hazelle’s on the 23rd?”

“Absolutely,” I say and squeeze her tighter. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll call you before then, okay?”

“Please do.”

“And you can call me to let me know how it goes with Peeta, okay? You can leave a message if I’m asleep.”

“Okay,” I say and we give each other one last hard squeeze. “I love you, too, Duck.”

“Quack.”

My feet are ice by the time I get in my truck. Some of my tears have frozen to my lashes. As the truck warms while I drive back towards town, they melt and fall down my cheeks. I let them finish their course. When I reach the town limits, my phone blows up with missed calls and messages. Some are from Prim. Another is from Madge, following up on our text conversation last night. She wanted to make sure I was okay and to let me know that Gale had gotten an earful from her. Today’s message declares that they plan on leaving the matchmaking to the twelve year olds from now on since they seem to be doing better.

One is from Effie, my landlord. There’s one from Karina and another from Peeta, both of them asking if I’m okay. I guess I seemed out of sorts when I left after breakfast this morning. I call Effie first.

“I’m glad you called, Katniss,” she says in her clipped tones after I tell her who I am. “The fire department released your apartment today, but I am afraid that the cleanup and repairs are not complete. I do have a vacant apartment on another floor. You are welcome to move into that one instead and I’ll simply find a new tenant for your old apartment once it’s repaired. Or you can wait for yours. Whichever works for you. I would hate for you to be out of a home for the holidays.”

“Okay,” I say. I’m not sure I can give her a solid answer yet. “Can I look at the empty one before I decide?”

“Of course! Just give me a call when you arrive and I’ll show it to you.”

I call Karina next, so she’s not worried that my disappearance or odd behavior today has anything to do with her.

“Katniss?” she says with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“Hey, Karina,” I say.

“Is she alright?” I hear Peeta ask in the background.

“I’m fine,” I say but I can’t be sure she heard me.

“No Dad, she’s calling from beyond the grave,” Karina says and I smile.

“Ask her how the food is in heaven,” he says.

“Heavenly,” I answer and Karina sighs dramatically.

“We’re about to leave the bakery, will we see you at home?” Karina asks.

“I have a few more hours work waiting for me at the office and an errand to run afterwards,” I say. “Can I talk to your Dad for a second?”

“Sure!” she says. “Katniss wants to talk to you for a second, Dad.”

“One,” Peeta says into the phone. “Time’s up.”

“Dad!” Karina shouts and then Peeta must hand it back to her because Karina whispers straight into my ear. “Save me, Katniss. He’s telling horrible Dad-jokes today.”

Karina laughs at something else Peeta says to her, the sound growing distant while she passes the phone back, and I smile at her joy.

“Hey,” Peeta says. Warmth shoots through me, a rocket of sensation before I can think to guard myself from it. It no longer matters that I spent hours in the cold today. I know where to go to find the warmth that I need.

“Hey. Effie called today,” I tell him and explain what’s going on.

“Do you want to go alone? Or would you like some company?” Somehow, I knew he’d offer and grin to no one in particular.

“I wouldn’t mind some company,” I say.

“We’ll meet you there just after five,” Peeta says and I hear car doors on his end right before we hang up.

I keep busy the rest of the afternoon, work and avoiding Johanna taking all my effort. Shortly before five, I manage to slip out the door undetected. I still reach my place before Peeta arrives and head upstairs to my apartment after I call Effie and leave a message on her phone.

The charred smell still lingers. A plastic sheet covers the living room window and flaps noisily in the wind. I shove my hands in my pockets as I survey the cleared out living room, bare down to the concrete floors, a good portion of the walls ripped out. I have no idea what happened to my couch, my tables, or any of my belongings that were in this room. They’re likely in a dumpster somewhere. Just part of the wreckage discarded during the cleanup process. For the second time today, reluctant tears spill down my cheeks.

A tentative knock draws me out of my reverie and I wipe my eyes before answering. Before I can say a word, Karina has her arms around my waist. Peeta’s encircle us both, smashing us into a hug sandwich.

“I’m okay,” I say after a few minutes and they both hold me closer.

“How bad is it?” Peeta asks.

“See for yourself,” I say and they release me. I take Karina’s hand in mine to keep her from wandering too far into the damaged areas.

“Where’d everything go?” Karina asks as her gaze sweeps the living room.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “They must have cleared it all out so they could fix the walls, the ceiling, and the floor.”

“Oh,” she says, sadness in her eyes. “You’re not going to stay here with the window like that, are you?”

“No,” I tell her and shiver, just now noticing how cold it is in here.

“Oh good.”

“There you are, dear!” Effie trills from the doorway. The three of us turn to face her and she motions for us to follow her. She appears frazzled and out of sorts. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Some people have no respect for appointment schedules, I swear. Do either of you happen to know an efficient and punctual contractor?”

“Can’t think of one off the top of my head,” Peeta says, giving me a sideways smile as Effie shuts my apartment door and tuts about how her regular maintenance contractor is a rude, foul-mouthed louse.

 _Haymitch_ , I mouth to Peeta and he smothers a laugh.

Effie leads us downstairs with no break in her diatribe against my uncle. It isn’t until she unlocks and swings open the door to 1F that she finally stops. “Here we are! It’s the exact same floor plan as the one upstairs. Plenty of good light, brand new kitchen appliances _and_ carpeting.”

We wander the apartment, opening doors and listening to Effie sing its praises as though I hadn’t lived in a mirror image twin of this exact apartment for close to six years. I try to feel some sort of excitement, but as I watch Karina plop down in the window seat and stare into the night, I realize that this apartment is missing something vital. Maybe I could find happiness here, but not the kind that I want.

“Oh! Excuse me dears, I need to take this call,” Effie sputters, waving her ringing phone and racing from the apartment.

“So, what’re you thinking?” Peeta asks in the quiet left in her wake.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“It looks like the living room faces west,” Peeta says, leaning over Karina for a second to look through it. “Gives you a nice view of the sunsets.”

“If the neighboring building wasn’t blocking it,” I grumble as I stand next to him.

“First floor means you won’t have to climb as many flights to get home,” he offers cheerfully. I know that he’s trying to be optimistic about this, but for some reason, I don’t want him to be.

“But then she might miss the extra exercise!” Karina says. Peeta glances dubiously down at her and opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“Not to mention it makes it far easier to rob. All someone has to do is a throw a brick through my window,” I say. Karina scrambles off of the window seat, as though someone’s waiting out there right now.

“Okay,” Peeta says and wanders back towards the kitchen area. “New appliances, though. That’s nice.”

“Pretentious,” I say. “I’ve never been fond of black appliances.” Peeta shifts his weight and a smile flickers around the corner of his mouth.

“Mirror image gives you a chance to change things up a bit,” he says.

“Or get confused,” I say instead.

“True,” he muses, scratching at his chin. “I mean you wake up in the middle of the night, thinking you’re headed towards the bathroom…”

“Get a faceful of wall instead,” I say. “Plus, I don’t really want to spend Christmas moving all of my things.”

“Do you spend a fortune to wrap everything just to move it two floors? Or do you risk broken dishes?” Peeta asks.

“Such a hassle,” I complain.

“But then again, it looked like your old place still needs a lot of work,” Peeta says meaningfully.

“Flooring, electrical repairs, ceilings and lighting…”

“New window and carpets,” Karina offers.

“And with Christmas coming up, it could take weeks for Effie to get her contractor in here to do all the work.”

“Especially with his complete disregard for punctuality or efficiency,” Peeta points out. Karina’s bouncing on her toes, already sensing where this is going.

“But,” I say and take a deep breath. “I’d hate to inconvenience anyone by crashing on their couch for Christmas.”

“I told you that you’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you like,” Peeta murmurs. In his eyes, I see his words from yesterday. And I know, this would have happened anyway. Buttercup and the fire just sped it up a little bit.

“And your clothes are already there!” Karina interjects.

“A lot of them are. Do you mind having me for Christmas?” I ask her this time.

“I’d _love_ it!” she expresses with the kind of verve only the young can manage gracefully.

“It’d just be temporary,” I remind her, although I might be too late to prevent high hopes.

Effie returns to hear our decision, and instead of altering my lease to reflect a new address, she disappears once more to dig up some boxes and paper for me. Peeta and Karina start in the kitchen, getting rid of food that’s already spoiled and packing anything left that might go bad or stale in the next few weeks. I focus in the bedroom and bathroom. I hug a photo album of my family to my chest before adding it to the box, then I fill in the holes in my hastily thrown together wardrobe. Now that I have the luxury of time and less stress weighing on me, I’m able to be more organized.

Peeta joins me, claiming that Karina is out in the hall, talking to Meaghan on the phone. He grabs a few books off my shelf to pack, and he even thinks to grab my bow and arrows from the hall closet. While I’m in the bathroom, sorting through toiletries and sundry other items, deciding what I might need over the next two weeks, he pokes his head in to ask me a question about the blankets and things on my bed.

“I don’t think I need them?” I say it as a question, thinking about the heaven that is Peeta’s bed and how I don’t want to change a thing about it. Except maybe claim a permanent spot in it for myself. Make it _our_ bed.

“Okay...what about something festive to wear?”

“Like what?” I ask, tossing an extra bottle of shampoo into my bag next to a spare tube of toothpaste.

“I dunno. You’ve got your dinner at your Mom and Hazelle’s on the 23rd, and I didn’t know if you’d want something cozy and in the holiday spirit to wear on Christmas morning… Those red socks were kind of fun.”

Something in his voice makes me look up at him. He’s blushing. All the way up to the tips of his ears. I’m transported back weeks to the night he told me I looked warm in the red socks, his voice having the effect of warming me through. Of heating me with a desire I had to quench myself. And I suddenly wonder if maybe Peeta was turned on by those socks. I lift a shoulder, as though I don’t care, but an idea is forming in my head.

“I suppose. I’ll have to remember where I shoved them.”

He coughs and nods. “Okay, sure. Anything else you can think of that you want packed?”

“No, I think I’ve about got it.”

“Then. I’ll go tell Karina to wrap it up.”

I stand and hoist the bag I was packing onto my shoulders. It takes us a few trips, but we fill Peeta’s trunk and toss a few things in the cab of my truck. When we reach his place, there’s a flurry of activity, unloading and finding places for things. My photo album winds up on the end table with one of theirs, my bow is hung up in the mudroom portion of their laundry room. We work together to make dinner, and it’s then that I notice Peeta packed my favorite mug, green painted leaves and a chip on the rim, but holding it warm in my palms brings me an inexplicable mix of calm and happiness.

Sometime during the process of winding down for the night and getting Karina ready for bed, I quiet the voices and banish them for good. I know what I want. I just have to be brave enough to ask for it.

Once she’s in bed, Peeta and I wind up on the couch, curled together and watching the stars through the open window, dancing with the reflected lights of the Christmas tree. Steaming mugs of chamomile tea in our hands. Mine in my favorite green mug.

“My lease is up in May,” I tell Peeta. “I was thinking maybe I should find someone to sublet it.” His arm tightens around me. I tilt my head back to look up at him. “After the New Year maybe. If things are good. With us.”

“Are you asking to move in with me? With us? For real?” Peeta whispers.

“I know we said we’d take things slow, but…”

“Speed is a relative quantity,” he says and I can hear something like joy in his voice, see it sparking to life in his eyes. “It’s not like we met two days ago or something. But...as much as I want you here, maybe keep your apartment until May. Just to be sure. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped here.”

“Okay. We’ll have to tell Karina something,” I say and he kisses the tip of my nose.

“I agree. What do you want to tell her?”

“The truth,” I say. “If she’s going to play cupid, maybe she should know that there are consequences and that it might not work out the way she wants it to. Maybe we should give her what she needs to prepare for that possibility.”

“Instead of letting it blindside her. Okay,” he agrees. We sip our tea and work out the details together. Our tea is gone by the time we’re both satisfied. We set our mugs in the sink to wash tomorrow and walk up the stairs together. I don’t even bother with climbing into the guest bed after I change into pajamas. Peeta’s already got his bed warmed and ready, lifting the comforter to welcome me.

“One more thing,” Peeta says as I slip my hands beneath his shirt and rest my head on his chest. “What are your plans for tomorrow evening?”

“It’s my last day of work until after Christmas, but other than that, I don’t have any plans.”

“Can I take you out? On a date?”

“I don’t know,” I say with forced indecision in my voice, although I’m smiling like a loon and I’m foolishly happy. “You should give a girl more warning. What if I’d had plans to wash my hair?”

I squeal as he surges up, uprooting me from my comfortable spot and somehow pinning me on my back. “Are you toying with me, Everdeen?”

“Maybe,” I say through my laughter, but the kisses on my neck are not the kind you laugh at and eventually, my hands tangle in his hair and I sigh. “Where are you taking me?”

“Is that a ‘yes?’” He stops moving and kissing me, but he sounds so eager that I can’t be mad at him.

“It’s a ‘yes,’ Peeta!” I say, laughing again because now he’s tickling me and kissing me at the same time. After, I’m still smiling when I fall asleep in his arms.


	22. December 21st - Than Words I'll Never Say

We’ve both been awake for at least an hour, stationed at the island in the kitchen with mugs of hot tea and waiting for Karina to wake up. I sit on one of the stools, bouncing my leg. Peeta stands at the end, leaning on both elbows and sliding his mug back and forth across the granite. He reaches out to take my hand and my knee stops bouncing.

“Nervous?” he asks quietly.

“A little. I mean, what if we’re wrong, Peeta? What if she hates the idea of us being together?”

“We’ll work it out, somehow. But I don’t think we’re wrong,” he says with such hope in his voice. I’m about to lean over to kiss him when Karina’s plodding footsteps trudge down the stairs.

“Ugh,” she says as she enters the kitchen. Her ponytail is ruffled and askew, she shuffles her feet and her eyes aren't all the way open. Still, she wraps her arms around me in a quick hug.

“Oomph,” Peeta grunts when she falls into his side and wraps her arms around him. He rubs her back soothingly. “You feeling okay this morning?”

“A little fuzzy in the head. Are we going to the bakery today?”

“Later,” he says. “Right now, there’s something Katniss and I want to talk to you about before she has to leave for work.”

Her eyes snap open and clear almost instantly. All traces of groggy sleep gone as she hones in on our still joined hands on the countertop. “As in like...both of you? Together?”

“We know you’ve been trying to play matchmaker with us the past few weeks,” I say, softly, so she knows we’re not angry with her. But her mind goes straight there anyways.

“Am I in trouble?” She steps back out of Peeta’s embrace and her shoulders shrink a little.

“No,” Peeta tells her. “You’re not in trouble at all. We just wanted to ask you to cool it with the cupid act.”

“Oh,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. She wears her heart on her sleeve, this sweet and hopeful girl. I smile at Peeta and place one hand on her shoulder.

“Because it’s really not necessary,” I tell her. Her head whips around to look at me.

“Huh?”

“My apartment is still mine until May. If you’re okay with it, we’re going to try this living together until then, see how it goes. It might not work out. We’re trying to take this slow. One step at a time.”

“If it doesn’t, Katniss will still spend time with you. Lunches on weekends, maybe some evenings after school, the food pantry on Sundays. In the meantime, we both would prefer it if there wasn’t so much pressure to make a relationship work. Which includes from you, Kare-Bear.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, but these things still take time for everyone to get used to and are sometimes tricky,” I tell her. “It’s easy for people to get hurt, but I won’t stop wanting to be around you, Karina.”

“We plan on talking to you about it, so you know what’s going on and aren’t surprised by anything. And you can always ask us questions if there’s something you’re not sure you understand, okay? Any questions so far?” Peeta asks.

“So are you two like a couple now?” We both nod. She looks between the two of us and licks her lips. “But if it does work out? Living here...will you stay for good?”

“Yes. I will,” I tell her. It’s a lot to promise a twelve year old. Five months to figure out if this is something that can last for always. But as my eyes meet Peeta’s and he squeezes my hand that he never let go of, I somehow know that it’ll be okay.

“Dad,” she says, spinning back towards him. “You can’t just stand there! You’re supposed to kiss her or something.”

“No more mistletoe traps or other tricks,” he says and she shifts her weight on her feet. They stare one another down for a moment.

“Fine,” she agrees with a huff.

“I can’t promise that this is going to end the way you want it to, Kare-Bear. No one can. So you should maybe hold off on wedding planning and focus on school and behaving yourself while I go on a date tonight.”

“You’re going on a date _tonight_?!” She spins around and gawks at me, disbelieving, as though she wasn’t even certain of her own success.

“If that’s okay with you,” I murmur and she nods emphatically.

“Gramma said she’d love to have you over for the evening,” Peeta says.

“Can we have a sleepover? Can I invite Meaghan?” Her words flow out in a smashed together jumble and Peeta laughs at her eagerness.

“That’s up to you, Gramma, and Meaghan’s parents. Are you sure you’re okay sleeping over with everything?”

“I’ll be fine. Gramma’s a girl, too. She’ll understand,” Karina says, her feet inching her towards the door, no doubt so she can make phone calls.

“Be polite,” he reminds her and she nods. “And don’t take too long on the phone, you still need to eat breakfast before we leave.”

“I won’t!” she promises, disappearing in a flash. I release a deep breath and then suck it right back in as Peeta hauls me out of the chair and into his arms.

“That went better than I thought it would,” I say, distracted by his fingers on my cheek, tilting my head back and smiling beneath the soft kisses he leaves on my lips. “Do you think she’ll actually take a break from the scheming?”

“Not likely,” he whispers. I slide my hands up his chest towards his shoulders, eager for more kisses now that the weight of telling Karina the truth is lifted.

There’s a loud gasp behind us and then a slapping sound. We both turn, still wrapped around each other, and find Karina in the doorway, hands clamped over her mouth, and eyes wide. Then her expression changes and she drops her hands to reveal a sly smile. She spins gracefully on one foot, prancing back out of the kitchen.

“I look nice in green! And it would be a lovely color for a May wedding.”

“Karina,” Peeta warns and her head pops back around the doorframe.

“Just kidding, Dad! Any chance of getting waffles for breakfast?”

I hide my face in his shirt to disguise my laugh, but Peeta’s shoulders are shaking with his own mirth. I think he tells her that he’ll get right on those waffles but only if she keeps her calls short and helps out with the cooking.

“I guess kissing you will just have to wait,” he says as he releases me after she’s once more disappeared.

Karina takes too long on the phone and the rest of the morning turns into a frantic race out the door. While the waffles are delicious, they’re a poor exchange for really good kissing. My work day isn’t much different from the morning, the only real break coming during our twenty minute in-office holiday celebration. I don’t even mind when Johanna bumps her hip into mine and asks how things are progressing in the relationship department.

“That’s between me and Peeta,” I tell her as I scoop some of the punch into my cup, a little too enthusiastically because some of it sloshes over the rim onto my hand.

“Good for you,” Johanna says with a firm nod. Her response confuses me and I stare at her through narrowed eyes, waiting for the insults. “What? You think I really want to hear the sappy details of your tacky romantic drama? No thanks! Now if you wanna dish about the sex…”

I scoff and roll my eyes, ignoring the sound of her laughter behind me. It’s as the day is winding down that I realize Peeta never told me where we’re going on our date tonight. I send him a text and finish the last few things that can’t wait until after Christmas. I’ll be back here on the 26th, so there isn’t much. I’m halfway to my truck when Peeta responds to me.

**_Dress warm._ **

Dress warm? That tells me that whatever we’re doing is outdoors, but his two little words have me thinking of those red socks and how he told me that I looked warm in them, how flushed his face was when he mentioned them yesterday. I shiver at the quick mental image of Peeta looking up at me with dark, desperate eyes, my legs in the socks on either side of his head, red wrapped calves resting on his bare back. Okay, maybe I should be thinking more tame for the first date. Otherwise we might not even make it out the front door.

Which brings up the question of how this even works. I’ve never been on a first date with someone I’m already living with. Usually I stick to one night flings or meet the guy there, mainly because other than Gale, I knew before the first date that it wouldn’t last. I didn’t want it to last. This time, I do. I want tonight to go well so badly that I’m starting to feel nauseous again.

I barely remember the drive and the sun’s just reached the horizon when I arrive home. As I step through the door, Karina’s shouting across the house at Peeta, asking if he’s seen her purple notebook.

“Not today,” he calls from upstairs. “Last I saw it was yesterday in the kitchen.”

I hear Karina muttering and find her on all fours in the living room, looking under the couch. “I already checked the kitchen. Aha! Found it, Dad!”

She pops back up and smiles at me before stuffing the notebook into her book bag, next to an almost identical sparkling red notebook. Given what I suspect is in that purple one, I’m wondering why she needs it tonight. Before I can ask her about the notebooks, Peeta’s loud steps catch our attention.

“Okay, you ready?” Peeta asks as he jogs down the stairs. I take in his corduroy pants and heavy green sweater over a dress shirt and tie. Handsome as ever, he smiles at me. I start thinking about what a difference a year can make. Just a year ago, I was helping him fix a different tie, a green one, in preparation for a date with someone else. I was so determined not to let that dream come between us. And now here we are, about to go out on our own first date. Peeta managed to get the gray tie he’s wearing done by himself and I’m determined to make that dream a reality at some point. Maybe not tonight, but if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him --

“Ready hours ago, Dad,” Karina says, cutting into my thoughts. She shrugs into her coat and yanks on her boots. She clomps over to give me a hug while Peeta puts on his coat and boots. “See you tomorrow, Katniss.”

“Have fun,” I say and Peeta holds the door to the garage open for her as she gathers up her pillow and her bag.

“You too!”

“I have to go pick up Meaghan first. I’ll be back after I drop the girls off with my Mom,” Peeta says.

“Okay,” I only get the one word out before he lets the door shut partway to shield us from Karina’s view and his lips find mine. It’s a soft kiss of reassurance and I cling to his coat, not wanting it to end and yet knowing that it must. When it does, Peeta smiles at me one more time.

“Should give you enough time to get ready,” he whispers.

“Don’t give me too much time, or I might turn into a pumpkin,” I tease. And with a quick kiss on my forehead, he’s gone.

As soon as they’ve backed out of the driveway and shut the garage door, I race upstairs to the guest bedroom. I’ve been keeping my things between here and the guest bathroom, but now that Karina knows what’s up, I feel less inclined to keep up with the belongings shuffle. I gather everything I think I’ll need and head into Peeta’s bathroom. It’s not huge, but it is cozy. Thick bath mats keep the tile floor from being frigid and the shower glass extends up close to the ceiling, holding in the steam longer. I shower quickly and leave my soap and shampoo on the shelf next to his. I hope that’s okay. Once I’ve got my hair dried and braided off to the side, I wrap myself in Peeta’s fluffy blue robe and commence digging through my clothes.

I start with the red socks, because they are surprisingly warm, a matching bra and panty set in a deep, chocolate brown. They aren’t the sexiest lingerie ever but they’re the best I’ve got. Besides, I’m not certain the night will end in nudity. The socks feel like hope and the plain undergarments a reminder of the need for patience.

I slip into a pair of gray fleece lined thermal leggings and a long sleeve, collared shirt. I find a cozy, oversized teal sweater embedded with faux pearls. Along with my heavy, lined snow boots and coat, I should be warm enough. I stuff my clothes that are now strewn across Peeta’s bed back into my bag and toss the bag on the floor.

Then I wait.

I’ve moved too fast, though, because I have time to add mascara and lip gloss and then wonder if I look like I’m trying too hard. Scoffing at myself, I gather my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. I’m about to start biting my nails when Peeta’s headlights flare through the living room window. My pulse skips for a second, but he doesn’t pull into the garage. He stops on the driveway.

The doorbell startles me.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, his eyes skimming over me when I answer the door. “You look...amazing.”

His lack of vocabulary and the realization that he’s trying to make this as much like a normal date as possible makes me bold. I reach through the door and pull him to me. His coat is still open, so I slip my arms inside until I am wrapped in his arms and the warmth beneath his coat. Our lips meet and the cold of his makes me shiver for a second until his gloved fingers caress the back of my neck, urging me to tilt my head so he can deepen the kiss.

We really are in danger of not making it out the door when a car drives by and the driver honks, jolting us apart, but only far enough so that our lips aren’t touching. I can feel my cheeks heating and nuzzle his throat while he catches his breath.

“I thought that’s how the night was supposed to end, not how it started,” Peeta teases.

“Play your cards right and it still can,” I say and tug him the rest of the way inside so he can close the door while I finish bundling up for the cold. When I’m ready, he offers me his arm and escorts me out to his still running car, opens the door and helps me in, and even though we both know I could do all of these things for myself, it’s nice to be pampered.

“Girls all settled with your mom?” I ask. Then it occurs to me that he would’ve seen Gale and Madge when he picked up Meaghan. “There weren’t any problems picking up Meaghan?”

His eyes flick to mine and he smiles slightly, shifting in his seat. “Other than the third degree I got from Gale? Pretty well.”

“Please tell me he didn’t really,” I groan and Peeta laughs nervously.

“He did. Does he usually play overprotective brother with your dates?”

“He’s never met any of them before. Other than himself, that is,” I say, regretting the words immediately.

“Haha...what?” Peeta asks. I can hear the nerves in his voice, and if it weren’t entirely the fault of my big mouth, I might think it cute how flustered he is.

“Um, high school,” I say by way of feeble explanation.

“Okay,” he says, kneading the steering wheel. “That gives a new dimension to all kinds of conversations.”

“Like what?” I ask, suddenly riled up that Gale might have talked about me behind my back. More than I already suspect he has. Peeta stops at a red light.

“I don’t know, just…” he trails off as he looks over at me. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I’m getting tired of everyone sticking their hands in our personal lives.”

“So am I,” I tell him.

“But if you don’t mind me asking, how come you never told me?”

I shrug and pick at my gloves. “It never seemed important. It’s just part of the past.”

Peeta reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I’ve wanted a night like this with you for a long time, and I’m worried about messing it up. Talking about ex’s is not how I expected it to start.”

“It’s really not first date material, is it? We should work up to that,” I say with a smile. He’s right. I don’t want to start the night out talking about Gale or Glimmer. He returns the smile and softly agrees.

“From now on, tonight is about you and me,” he promises.

The warmth in my cheeks spreads lower as we stare at one another. “Peeta...the light’s green.”

He lets go of me and focuses back on driving just in time to avoid getting honked at again. As we drive, I’m transported back to the night of the paintings. To a thousand other moments when I felt completely at ease around Peeta. The nausea fades, replaced by a pleasant calm that reminds me that whatever I feel for Peeta right now, it’s been there for longer than a few days or even a few weeks. The influence of others doesn’t change it. My unwillingness to put a name to the thing doesn’t make it less real.

I’m the one who reaches out and snags his right hand off the steering wheel so that I can hold it while we share our day with each other and cover the mundane things that might fit better for a couple on a fourth or fifth date, but we already know most of the small talk type stuff that would usually fill a first date with a stranger. We are not strangers, and this first date is long past overdue.

The conversation only tapers off when Peeta tells me, “Almost there.”

I glance out the window at the sign welcoming us to Meadow Springs, a small town that neighbors Panem. The street is lit for the holidays, soft white lights twinkling gently in the trees that form a bower over the road. The snow gathered on the branches reflects the light in puffy clouds of luminescence, shimmering pearls of warmth in a world of cold.

He drives us to their town square and parks, hurrying around to help me out while I take in the booths set up around the massive, decorated pine tree that’s the center of the square. I’ve been to Meadow Springs plenty of times before. It’s actually where my father was born. But I’ve never seen it decked out for the holidays like this. Never been to their winter fair.

“Okay, food first,” Peeta says as he locks the car. We hold hands and wander down the aisles, browsing the food selections and debating options. The smells tantalize and beckon. I can’t decide what I want.

“I want to try one of everything,” I admit to him.

“Then we better pace ourselves.”

We start with the stand selling gyros, and I notice that Peeta doesn’t order one for himself. But that turns out to be a good plan because I’m only a quarter of the way through it when something else catches my nose and calls to my taste buds. Peeta winds up finishing the gyro while I dig into a creamy dish of potatoes. Peeta has to finish even that when I discover a roasted pepper relish served on slices of toast. We share that too and enjoy mugs of spiced cider and brandy.

“I’m not sure I saved room for dessert,” I say, several shared dishes later as I stare longingly at the roasted and candied almonds being scooped onto vanilla ice cream and smothered with caramel.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we go check out the main attraction and then we’ll come back for dessert,” Peeta suggests.

“You mean the food isn’t the main attraction?” I ask and Peeta laughs.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand in his again and leading me around the City Hall building, a quaint brick structure with a working clock tower and everything. I’m expecting more quiet, sleepy village and gasp when the area opens up behind City Hall. The long, narrow field is aglow with Christmas lights in myriad colors, all hanging from the trees that line the park. In the center are a few dozen snow and ice sculptures, shimmering in the lights. An archway leading into the park labels the space as The Parkway.

We wander through the sculptures, Peeta pointing out some of the details of the craftsmanship while I make up stories for each of them. A handful of people stop to greet Peeta, and he admits that he’s got a few customers who drive up from Meadow Springs to patron his bakery. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. His buns are worth the drive.

“I never understood the appeal of ice fishing,” Peeta says as he ducks to follow me into a cabin carved from snow, after the artist insisted we enter. His feet slide a little on the ice floor and he holds out his hands until he regains his balance.

“Try not to destroy the art, would you?” I tease and he laughs. His face sobers though as he gets a good look at the person sitting forever frozen and napping while their fishing line dangles through a hole in the ice. A few fish tails stick out of a snow basket off to the side.

“Wow,” he breathes, the word a halo of curling steam around his face. He spends a moment admiring the work then squats down to check out the basket of fish and then the small fire, carved into twisting icicles and glowing with a strange light from within. Peeta finally locates the battery powered spotlight that makes the fire glow, but the effect is still no less beautiful for knowing the trick behind it.

The artist pokes her head back in to check on us and Peeta gets caught up in a discussion about technique. And the thing is, I’m not annoyed by it. Not in the least. He just looks so relaxed and happy, like the night we went painting. Just like I did while we plowed our way through half the food offerings just up the hill. After a few minutes, Peeta glances my way and blushes. He starts stuttering over his words with the artist and making apologies to me. I slip my hand in his and squeeze.

“I don’t mind. It’s actually warm in here. Maybe it’s the fire.”

Peeta laughs and relaxes again. They finish their conversation and then we move on to the next statue, a herd of horses running across the plains.

“Okay but why a fire?” Peeta asks, confusing me for a moment. “You’re sitting on top of a frozen lake and you decide to light a fire? Seems counterintuitive.”

“We have bonfires at Blue Bell Lake every year.”

“Yeah, but we’re on solid ground, not the lake itself,” Peeta argues.

“How else is the fisherman going to stay warm?” I ask with a shrug and Peeta shakes his head.

“Sure, right until it melts the ice and he takes an unexpected dip.” He shudders comically and I laugh.

Eventually, we find ourselves in a corner of The Parkway, gazing up at a replica of Rodin’s _The Kiss_. Even in ice, the way he holds her, with his fingers kissing dimples into her thighs makes warmth pool low in my body.

“They must be cold,” Peeta says, no doubt an attempt to fill in where I’m not making jokes. I shake my head and tug him away from the sculpture, into the shadows of the trees.

I turn and pull him to me, fingers clutching the back of his neck, making dimples in his skin as our lips meet. His arm wraps around me, the other braced on a tree trunk and holding us upright. We kiss until both of us are warm and swollen lipped. We kiss until I’m a little worried about my sanity and ability to refrain from public indecency. When I drop down off my toes, we stand there catching our breath, the sounds of the fair distant, the lights overhead casting a dreamy glow over us. I know life won’t always be this magical for us, but damn if I don’t fall a little more in love with him when he opens his eyes and looks at me like I’m something out of a dream.

“Or maybe they’re the only ones who aren’t cold out here,” Peeta breathes, his words once more forming clouds of steam in the night.

“Not the only ones,” I tell him. His arm pulls me closer, and I know that if he kisses me again right now, I might not be able to stop. “We should go see about that dessert.”

“Dessert. Yeah, good idea,” Peeta says. He kisses my forehead this time while I hold onto his scarf and coat, a smile taking over my entire being. I’m beginning to like speechless Peeta and knowing that I can have this effect on him.

We walk back through the sculptures with arms linked, deciding which ones are our favorites. For me, it’s either the mermaid perched on a rock with the sea breaking in curls of ice behind her or the kids having a snowball fight. Peeta claims the towering cake -- “Because it’s kind of required for a baker to admire true craftsmanship,” he says with a grin -- or the ice fishing cabin because of the impressive work on it. Both of us take one last glance towards the corner where _The Kiss_ stands.

“But I think that one has a special spot on the list, too,” he whispers, pointing towards it, and I rise on my toes to press a swift kiss to his jaw. I don’t care that we’re in public and have an audience. I’ve spent so much wasted time _not_ kissing Peeta, that I want to follow my inclination to shower him with as many as I can.

We share one of the ice creams, both of us opening our mouths and making faces at the cold that hits our tongue. In this weather, it’s almost like being burned. We manage to laugh at how ridiculous we look. When the ice cream is gone, we wander aimlessly through the square again, talking as we do about Karina, the lake, a hundred other things. I’m stalling. Maybe Peeta is too. I only know that I don’t want the night to end yet. My thighs above the red socks are starting to feel frozen, though, and I know I won’t want to stay in the cold much longer.

Then it occurs to me that we don’t have to. We can continue our date at home, wrapped in each others arms and safe from the cold.

“My toes are starting to go numb,” I tell Peeta.

“Let’s get out of the cold, then,” he says and leads us back to his car. The drive back to the house is much the same as the drive out. It’s simple and quiet, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. I hear the resonance of our friendship in our words. That hasn’t changed, and I am grateful for it. He does park in the garage this time, though. As soon as the door closes behind us, I lean across the console to kiss him again.

He brings one hand up to cup my cheek. Our breaths seem to echo in the stillness of the night as our lips converge and press together. Separate then return with more urgency. Sweet escalates quickly to ardent and then beyond that to desperate. Peeta pulls me into his lap, turning me to leave my legs draped over the console, and I wind my arms around his neck. He holds me close and grips my thigh. We kiss for ages, making out in his car like teenagers seeking the highs of lust free from parental supervision. Only the hunger in me is not that of an inexperienced youth. It’s one that knows the pleasure to be found at the end of this road, if only we can make it past a few hurdles. The first one is getting out of this car before we freeze.

I turn my head to the side and gasp for air as Peeta shifts his kisses to my ear and then down my neck. “Peeta?”

“Mmhmmm?”

“Did you go to the store recently?” Peeta stops kissing me and lifts his head, meeting and holding my gaze for a breathless moment before he answers. His eyes glitter with desire, deep blue pools filled with promises.

“Yes,” he whispers, and I hope we’re talking about the same thing.

I fumble for the door handle behind me and we spill from the car, Peeta slamming the door as we hurry inside. In the darkness of the laundry room, we pause, stealing kisses and peeling off layers. Leaving them behind to be dealt with later. Our boots squeal with melted snow caught between rubber as we use our feet to pry them off, our hands occupied with warming cold cheeks and necks and ears, gripping sweaters for balance and closeness.

We stumble into the brightness of the kitchen in stockinged feet, both our sweaters left littering the floor. My back slams into a wall and Peeta presses into me, the cold completely gone from his lips as we kiss. My hands make a mess of his hair. His slide beneath my shirt and I shiver at the chill left on his skin, but even that disappears quickly. The heat burning through me makes the shock feel more frigid when he yanks his mouth back away from me.

“Wait!” he says, looking mortified.

“What is it now?” I practically growl, sensing the denial of something I need desperately. We’ve been holding back for a hundred reasons that I can’t remember right now.

“I had a really great time tonight, Katniss,” he says, cupping my cheek once more and smiling sweetly at me. I scowl at him and he kisses the tip of my nose. “I hope you did too?”

The uncertain way he asks it makes me laugh. I yank down on his tie, unraveling the knot with a few jerky motions. I slide the silk out from beneath his collar and throw the thing to the ground. Press my body into his as my fingers fly over his shirt buttons. “No, I clearly had a terrible time. Absolutely awful. Which totally explains why I’m practically ripping your clothes off right now.”

He grins and kneels in front of me, his hands tugging down on my leggings. I shimmy to help him, our eyes meeting for a second before he kisses me low on my belly through my panties.

“So can I take you on a second date sometime? Soon?”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” I say and he chuckles as his hands continue sliding the leggins down my thighs. He pauses when a few inches of the red stockings are visible. “Something wrong, Peeta?”

My leggings disappear with a _whoosh_ and I have to brace myself with hands flat on the wall to keep from falling over. He stands back, ravenous blue eyes sweeping over me as I lean against the wall and shift my legs nervously.

“Fuck me. That picture did not do you justice,” he finally murmurs. His hands grip my ass and I squeal in surprise, my stomach swooping as I’m lifted into the air and against his chest. I wrap my legs around him for stability. Another muffled squeak vibrates between our lips as he kisses me again.

I guess I was right about these socks turning him on.

He spins and I cling to him while his footsteps thunder up the stairs. Laughter bounces out of me with each step. His excitement is electrifying and only serves to heighten mine.

Once we reach his bedroom, he sets me carefully on my feet and steps back once more to look at me.

“Are you just going to look, Peeta?” I tease. “Or are you going to do something about it?”

“Both,” he whispers. “I’ve been dreaming about having your legs and those socks wrapped around me. Next time I dream about them, I want the pictures in my head to be real.”

He steps close once more, his fingers tracing over my face, down my neck to toy with the collar of my shirt. I bite my lip as our frenzy melts into something more thrilling. Something like yearning. It fills my chest as he traces one finger down my torso, between my breasts, over and around my belly button through the cotton of my shirt before he finally grasps the hem and lifts. I lose sight of him for a few heartbeats, and then he’s there again, dropping my shirt to the floor and devouring me with his eyes. Or maybe painting a picture of this moment in his mind.

The act of removing a shirt has never been more sensual.

But he’s not done yet. He kisses my neck as his hands skim over my ribs around to my back where he unclasps my bra. I tilt my head, stunned that the he’s somehow inciting stronger desire in me. I thought I couldn’t want this any more than I already did. His palms cover my shoulders and he doesn’t stop kissing me as he slides the bra off of me, I drop my hands and listen to the scrap of fabric hit the floor. My body sways to follow him when he steps back again. I’m practically naked, but the way he looks at me makes both clothing and self-doubt a waste. And all I want is for him to feel the same way I do.

Determined, I reach out with both hands and slip them beneath the open edges of his shirt, my touch skims over his broad shoulders, removing the fabric from his body as I go. It gets caught on his wrists, since we didn’t unbutton the cuffs. He whips his arms up and down in frustration as I laugh and focus on his belt and the buttons on his pants. I sneak a few kisses onto his chest, pausing right over his heart to feel it thump against my lips.

He untangles himself from the shirt and it joins mine by the time I’m dragging his pants down over his hips and thighs. I bend over and nip at his abs, his sides while he steps out of them. His hands clench into fists and he releases a heavy breath that whispers of repressed desires.

When I stand upright again, he whisks me into the air and yanks back the covers. Lays me down on the bed, stretches out next to me. Barricades out the world with blankets holding in our shared warmth. Whatever remains of our frenzy from earlier melts under the heat of his eyes on me. I twist my fingers in his hair and sigh as his head dips. He kisses soft words into my skin, paints them onto my heart with all four of his fingers, in feather caresses down my body, graceful swirls of tongue and touch. I try to match him touch for touch, memorizing the freckles that kiss his shoulders and upper arms.

“Katniss,” he murmurs and draws another moan from me as his fingers brand desire on my folds, even through the fabric of my panties. “You’re like that fire tonight, lit from within and beautiful. So beautiful I’m afraid to touch you sometimes. Like if I get to close or let the flames burn too hot, I’ll find myself cold and trapped beneath the ice.”

“That won’t happen,” I gasp and buck my hips up into his touch. My nails score lines into his arms as a I pant and beg for more, for the heart of the fire his fingers are building. “Oh god, Peeta, just build your fire on solid ground.”

The words cost me in pleasure, relief skipping off as I lose focus on it. Peeta shifts his body over mine, covering me with heat as his hand keeps working, raising the flames back up. And up until I’m dancing in the sheets and his arms.

“Peeta, please,” I beg. “I want you inside me.”

He groans into my neck, but his hands and lips blaze a path down my body. I help him tug off my panties. Once they’re lost to the sheets, I reach for the red socks, but Peeta’s hands stop me.

“Leave these on?”

I smile up at the desperate look in his eyes. “You said you dreamt about me in these socks. You’re going to have to share those dreams one of these days.”

He bends back over and kisses me, his tongue hot velvet in my mouth. I cling to his shoulders as he pulls away and smiles. His voice is low and rumbles through my body to my toes when he speaks again. “You sure you can handle them? They weren’t exactly innocent dreams.”

I think about the dream I had about him a year ago, how it made me orgasm in my sleep and I return the grin. “Well then maybe I should share some of mine with you, too. Later.”

His eyes widen for a second and then he’s upright on his knees, the blankets falling off his shoulders, leaving us both exposed. I shiver and reach out to help him remove his shorts, kissing his tip as his erection springs free. I take his hand in mine, he gathers the sheets with his other. Then I pull him back on top of me. Peeta brings the blankets and we’re skin to skin from head to toe, rocking together as we kiss, fingers in hair and touching where we can. Fleeting and yet permanently etched in my memory. His cock brushes through my curls and I wrap my legs around his.

He doesn’t break the kiss, but his right hand leaves mine, making a ruckus in his nightstand. When he lifts his head, he focuses on the box in his hand. Relieved, I help as much as I can. Not soon enough, he’s sheathed in a condom and I wrap my hand around the base of him, squeezing probably harder than I should, but Peeta moans and flattens his palms on either side of my ribs.

“Talk to me, Katniss,” he murmurs as I guide him to me. He slips through my arousal a few times before I manage to get him lined up and sliding forward. His cock stretches me, slow and delicious as he sinks deeper. My strangled gasp makes him pause, but I shake my head and grip his ass.

“More. Peeta, more,” I whisper. Our eyes meet and I can see the strain in his, the effort to hold onto the last shreds of sanity. I can feel his hands curling into fists as he fills me. His groan shakes me to my core. And then our hips meet. Aligned and as close as two people can get.

“Oh fuck, you feel like heaven,” he gasps and rocks his hips, keeping his cock deep in me but stroking parts of me that make me sing. “Sound like it, too.”

Our bodies slide together, all heat and steam as Peeta’s words dissolve into groans and I don’t even attempt words. I’m too lost in the fullness, the complete rapture of being one with him. Orgasm isn’t even my goal anymore. Just this. Just us. Together. Feeling everything, satisfied and yet needing more. Needing promises of always.

But Peeta’s face contorts and his movements loose their smooth rhythm before I’m even close to release.

“Katniss, I can’t. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says desperately. I palm his cheek and force him to look at me.

“Peeta, let go,” I whisper and shift my legs to wrap around his hips. I hook my feet together over his ass and hold onto his arms. “Let go.”

He thrashes between my legs and shouts his release. It burns in a blush across his skin, from his cheeks and swollen lips down to his shoulders. Throbs between my legs and thunders with his pulse against my chest. His arms shudder around me and I smile as he lowers his head to rest on mine, our noses and heavy breaths brushing together.

My chest aches with the feel of him still filling me, the beauty of his release and his expressions of longing and passion. The desire to share this with him. I can feel the words welling up in my throat, the need to tell him. “Peeta.”

The satisfaction of his release vanishes from his eyes and he curses. “No. Not acceptable.”

Hurt lances through me as he shifts. My body quaking with loss as he pulls out of me and ties off the condom, discarding it on the floor and sitting back on his knees. I shudder with the sudden cold and draw my legs together, curling in on myself, wondering what I did so wrong. What he finds unacceptable.

But he rests his palms on my knees and glides his touch down to my ankles, then back up my legs. Gently, he pries my knees apart and slides his hands up my inner thighs. His fingers dance around the tops of the socks, plucking at the knit fabric and toying with sensitive nerve endings. Then he pushes me wider and lowers himself, planting his face where his cock just left me open and lost, unfulfilled.

“You’re fucking delicious. All it took was once and I’m already addicted to your taste,” he whispers as he nuzzles my aching lips. And now I understand what he found so unacceptable. His tongue and fingers finish what he started. My fingers lose themselves in his hair and my mind gets lost in pleasure. His hands roam and his tongue pinpoints centers of need, honed in and sending me higher, higher, higher. Coiled tight and desperate. Under pressure in my gut, so much pressure. I twist and scream until with just a flick, Peeta unravels all of it.

Can you blackout from pleasure? I think I might because I’m moaning and rolling from side to side, Peeta’s mouth still latched to my folds, his head in a red sock and shaking thighs vise when I’m able to think or notice anything other than the feelings taking over my body, my mind, even down to my soul.

I vaguely feel him kissing up my body, nibbling the sweaty skin of my neck and murmuring to me. I toy with his hair and fight off sleep, wanting to extend this night longer. To enjoy how close and real he feels in my arms, his skin heating mine, his lips. Everything.

“Stay,” I mumble as we shift so that he’s laying on his stomach, our sides flush together. His arm curled over my belly, holding me tight. My leg draped over the backs of his thighs, pinning him in place. “Wanna stay.”

“You could stay forever and I’d still want longer with you,” Peeta whispers. I’m still awake a moment later when his deep breathing alerts me that he’s already escaped into dreams. But I can’t sleep. Not yet. There is one thing that surges up from deep inside me and refuses to be contained a second longer.

“I love you, Peeta,” I whisper, scared of it but following the promise with a kiss and hoping that maybe tomorrow, I can be brave enough to say it when we’re both awake and fully aware.

 

We don’t sleep for long, though. A chime from his phone sends Peeta upright, twisting us both in sheets as I try to gain my bearings. He checks the message and answers it quickly while I burrow deeper into the warmth of the bed.

“Who was that?” I ask as Peeta stretches and stands, gathering up scattered clothes to pile them up on the chair in the corner of his room.

“My mother. Letting me know that the girls are doing fine and asking after us.”

“Why is everyone so nosy?” I mutter and pull the covers up over my head. The bed shifts and I scream as Peeta’s hands find me and tickle.

“Because we’re exciting,” Peeta says with a grin.

“Oh yes, riveting,” I mutter and twist away from his tickling.

“A couple of old farts already sleeping before nine at night.”

“Is it really still before nine?” I ask incredulously and grab for my phone while Peeta tugs on a pair of pajama pants. He doesn’t bother with underwear, and for some reason, the very idea of it is irresistibly sexy to me. One less piece of clothing for me to fumble with removing when we go for round two.

“Nine thirty,” he says even as I manage to wake my phone and see it for myself. We still have so much time together. And I can’t stand the thought of wasting it. Peeta seems to have the same idea as he hands me a massive cotton shirt that I recognize as his. “You wanna go downstairs and drink some hot cocoa?”

“Yes,” I say and tug on the shirt. When I emerge from the covers, Peeta’s jaw drops. “What?”

“Changed my mind,” he says, pulling me to him and grabbing my ass, kissing me until my head is reeling. I roll my hips into his emerging hardness and grin. He grunts, fingers and tongue digging deep as I twist and escape his hold on me.

“Nope,” I say with a scolding wag of my finger. “You promised me hot chocolate.”

“I cannot be expected to hold to any promise when you’re dressed like that. Unless it’s a promise to make you come for an hour straight.”

I dodge his grasping hands and skip into the bathroom, calling over my shoulder. “Chocolate first, Mellark. Sex later.”

“At least put some panties on? Or I might drink you instead of the chocolate,” he whines.

“I will if you do,” I taunt and he whimpers. I laugh before shutting the door for some privacy. The chill reaches between my legs though, so when I’m done, I do find a pair of dark gray lace panties that I shimmy into before I go downstairs. They’re worn with bits of elastic starting to fray and the bra that went with these is long since toast, but I’m not sure Peeta will notice any of those details tonight.

As I enter the kitchen, I smile. The pot clanks on the stove and Peeta shakes his head.

“I regret loaning you my shirt.”

“Why?” I ask as I hoist myself up onto the counter next to the stove. I wrap the loose fabric around me and hug myself. It’s like wearing a hug from Peeta, and the collar slipping off my shoulder whispers of the satin touches and kisses from him that drive me wild with need. “I like it.”

“Because I knew you’d look hot as sin and more decadent than chocolate and cream cocoa in it.” His kiss leaves no room for argument, but as he turns to make the warm drink for us, his smile invites it.

“Don’t I?”

“You do,” he says, pouring the milk into the pan and stirring in the cocoa chunks and other ingredients. He’s still stirring as he leans over, lips hovering close to mine. “Makes me want to spread your legs and eat till you scream again. Right here on the kitchen counter.”

“Be careful,” I warn in a whisper that shivers down my spine with his words and the memories from earlier. “It’s dangerous to come between me and food.”

“I know. But feeling you come on my tongue is worth the risk,” he says and nips at my lip before returning his focus to the drink warming on the stove.

I watch him through new eyes as he moves to the cabinet and digs out a pair of red mugs from the back. Crossing my legs, I rest my elbows on my knees, chin in my hands. I’m unable to keep the smile off my face as Peeta hums to himself. He catches me staring and does a double take.

“What?”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I say, uncertain where this almost childish need to know everything about him came from.

“Okay...like what?” he asks. I struggle for an example. We’ve known each other for years. I know so many things about him.

“Tell me a story,” I say instead. “About a happy day from your childhood.”

“Ah, well…” he thinks for a moment, ruffling the back of his already disheveled hair. My belly clenches in rising desire again and I shove it back down. Of course I want to taste and touch him every which way from here to eternity, but I also crave the easy conversations of our years long friendship.

“When I was a kid, my Mom didn’t want me in the kitchen in the bakery. I didn’t understand at the time, but I think she was trying to keep one of us from falling under my Dad’s spell. She wanted one of us on her side, and spending all that time baking cookies and indulging in sweet treats made it difficult for her to compete with my Dad. Especially when we were little.”

“This isn’t happy,” I protest.

“I’m getting there, impatient,” he says with a smile and a kiss to my cheek. “On summer days, she’d come home from her job with boxes of chalk and she asked me to decorate the sidewalk outside the bakery with her. We’d draw for hours on the stones. Pigs and cats and things. My friend from down the street, Delly, would join us sometimes. I’d get sunburn on my nose and my mother would rub aloe into it. Better?”

I eye his nose, tracing a finger down the line of it and focusing in on the freckles that dot his skin. I’ve never really noticed them until now. “Better.”

“Your turn,” he says and stirs the chocolate again, holding the spoon close to his mouth to test the temperature.

“I am terrified of being underground,” I confess to him. He tilts his head and nods.

“A valid fear.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t laugh,”

“I wouldn't dare,” I say solemnly.

“Spiders,” he says and flips off the burner, clearly happy with the temperature.

“Does Karina have bug patrol duty?”

“No, she’s just as scared of them as me. We stand on the chairs and scream in terror together,” he says. Then he eyes me speculatively. “How are you with spiders?”

“Fearless and deadly,” I say.

“Would you be willing to kill the spiders for us?”

“For a price,” I say with a wink.

“That’s it. You’ll just have to marry me,” he teases with a kiss.

We’re both laughing but there’s something in the laughter that says we both know this isn’t just a joke. He focuses on filling the mugs, as though he knows he’s toying with dangerous lines, his cheeks growing pink. I slide off the counter and find the marshmallows. Peeta accepts them from me, piling one mug high while I retake my seat on the counter. When he’s done, he spins once then hands it to me with a grin.

I stare at the word on the side of it and hold the mug in my hands. _Naughty_ , it declares. I glance up at the twinkle of laughter in Peeta’s eyes as he lifts his mug to his lips and realize that his says, _Nice_. Well if that’s the game we’re playing.

Taking a long drink of my cocoa, I keep my eyes trained on his. It’s good. Decadent and rich with just the right hint of sweetness. I moan and let my eyes close. When I lower the mug and lick my lips, I open my eyes and find Peeta staring at my mouth.

“You always were the nice one in this relationship,” I say. Before I can take another sip, his lips are on mine, his mug _clinks_ as it lands on the counter. His hands grip my thighs and I spread for him, welcoming the heat of his body as he steps closer, my half full mug still between us.

“I like to sleep with the windows open,” he whispers when he lifts his head. “When I can’t, like now because it’s so cold, sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating in the sheets.”

I blink and stare up at him. Swallow and then open my mouth. “I count the squares in the sidewalk every time I walk somewhere. Like knowing how far I’ve gone will help me find my way back.”

Another kiss. “I was drawing you the other night when you asked. But I can’t figure out how to shade your eyes to capture the life in them. The way they’re somehow both smoke and flame. I want to spend every possible moment trying to get them right.”

A long kiss, my fingers clenching on the mug until they hurt. “I had a dream about you...last year. An erotic dream. It was...the best sex I’d ever had up until a few hours ago. And it wasn’t even real.”

The words hover in the air between us. I draw in a deep breath, expecting rejection when the mug slides out of my fingers, _clanks_ on the counter and then strong hands grip my hips and pull me to the edge. My bare thighs squeal on the granite, my skin burning. Then burning more as Peeta’s mouth descends on mine.

His palm cups the back of my neck, my hair tangling around his fingers, his touch pulling sharp stabs of pain from my scalp, but I don’t care. I don’t hurt in his arms. Not with my nails burrowed into his shoulders and my legs clamped around his waist until they ache with the effort of not falling off the counter. I don’t even need to try, though. He lifts me off the surface, leaving it cold as he carries me back upstairs. He sets me down and we remove one another’s clothes. I scurry onto the bed and he chases after me.

“Tell me about this dream,” he pleads as he sits on his knees. I flatten my hands on his chest and maneuver us so he’s leaning against the headboard.

“I’ll show you,” I say instead. Then I pour out every filthy imagining and every heated touch that was the foreplay in my dream while I kiss over his body and stare up at his blue eyes. Peel away his pants until his cock points towards the ceiling and waves to me, asking for me to reenact the dream. I manage words between his soft gasps and my long licks up his shaft. I bring him right to the brink and then tell him what came next.

“Can we skip that this time?” he asks, his hands fumbling for a condom. We roll it onto him together and then he holds my hands while I move my knees to straddle him.

“You don’t want me riding your face?” I asks, pouting out my lip at him.

“Of course I do,” he says, even as he moves his cock to stroke through my folds and open them for him, so I can slide down on top of him. My hands grab hold of his shoulders and I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him. “Having you ride my face and drench it with your release is one of my top priorities. First on my Christmas wish list.”

“Then why are we here?” I ask, rolling my hips to take the last of him. Peeta groans and his knees bend behind me.

“Fuck if I know. I’m still not convinced I’m not dreaming this whole night,” he laughs and I twist my hips. He grips them and rolls his body, like a wave beneath me. I gasp as he settles flat on his back and tugs up the covers to my waist to help us stay warm.

“Because I really want to come with your cock inside me,” I moan. “Face riding later.”

Peeta curses but then his hands hold onto my hips, roam around to knead my ass while I ride his dick instead of his face. I can’t handle the feel of him filling me, not just bodily, a kind of connection I’ve never experienced before. Tears spring to the corner of my eyes, although they aren’t tears of pain. I fall on top of him, letting my loose hair hide my face as I join our mouths and we share moans and ragged breaths between tongues that twist and soothe.

Our mouths are soft but our hips are punishing, driving me faster towards the edge. I reach for it, desperate and greedy. My frantic movements tear our mouths apart and I whimper his name, already feeling the disappointment of an orgasm I can’t quite achieve.

His fingers dig into me and grip flesh. Peeta grits his teeth and then his hands start moving my hips for me. Fast and hard. I grip his biceps and feel the power of each stroke beneath my fingers. And then I’m wailing as I fall apart, over and over, starbursts of sensation that start in my core and fill every last corner of my being.

Peeta must sit up, because we’re upright and clinging to one another, his teeth in my shoulder and hands on my back, my hands in his hair as the second wave rolls through me. I smile in bliss and laugh hysterically in relief as he licks up sweat then rolls us over.

The cool sheets on my back make me gasp, but not as much as the feel of him draping my legs over his arms and sliding his cock back into me.

“Is this okay?” he whispers and I moan my consent.

I’m pinned motionless beneath him, my feet dangling in the air to his sides. Peeta nibbles on my ear and whispers to me while he slides in and out. So slow. So steady. But his arms shake around me and his voice is breathy.

When I can feel him again, really feel him moving inside of me, I hold his face in my hands and shift his lips to meet mine. We kiss, uncoordinated and desperate.

“This is what I dreamt about,” he whispers between kisses and soft moans. “Your legs over my shoulders and these sock tormenting me. My cock deep as it can go, buried in your hot, wet pussy. And my name on your lips. Just mine.”

“Yes, Peeta. Please,” I beg, because I’m already quaking with the beginnings of another release.

My hands slip over his shoulders and down to my knees. I wrest them up so his shoulders press into my calves, his chest pushing my thighs down to squash my breasts, my feet touching behind his head. Our moans form a melody as he plunges into me. I can’t move much beneath him, but it feels so fucking good that I don’t need to. Peeta rolls his hips into me and warns me that he won’t be able to hold out much longer. I demand that he fuck me and hang onto his arms as the power and depth of his thrusts sends me reeling. I see stars in the air around us as stroke after stroke of ecstasy rockets through me. No warning and then I’m flying. Soaring high above the stars with Peeta’s song of release in my ear, the harmony of our bodies convulsing together the only thing keeping me tethered to earth.

Peeta’s hips still rock against mine as he lowers first one leg, then the other to the bed. I leave them where he places them, shaking and sweating with moans still falling from my lips. I’m not sure when I let go of him, but I’m gripping the pillow as he lovingly kisses my neck and ears, murmuring broken words and reaffirming them with his tongue, hot and silken on my skin. Then it’s my lips that he’s kissing.

Eventually, he rolls off of me to deal with the condom. As he settles back in the bed, I move. He smiles as he watches me, laying on my side, my head on his stomach so that I can look up at him, the blankets twisted round my naked legs.

We should be tired, exhausted. And while my eyes do droop a little, and I stifle a yawn, I know that I am not yet ready for sleep.

“I’m thinking coffee,” I tell him and he laughs. We’re like teenagers, wrapped only in his sheets and the red socks still on my legs, sneaking into the kitchen for coffee and a couple of bagels that Peeta toasts and smears with cream cheese. Refreshed and caffeinated, we hurry back upstairs. I find his sketchbook in the nightstand and thrust it into his hands, falling on the bed and beckoning for him to join me.

Peeta draws me, over and over and bemoaning how no medium or skill will ever capture my eyes with satisfactory fidelity.

“I took ballroom dancing lessons in grade school,” Peeta tells me. “My mother insisted. Then Dad dragged me to tryouts for the wrestling team because a couple of boys had started making fun of me.”

“So you can tango and pin me to the bed. A lethal combination,” I say.

“Right, I’m going to dance and then wrestle you to death,” he says and I laugh at his exaggerated wink.

“I played intramural rugby with an all boys’ team for five years until Terrence Holly told the whole league that I was a girl. No one believed him for another four months.”

“What made them believe?”

“Gale told them he was going to marry me.”

“So how did that…” Peeta motions, unable to finish the question, but I get the idea.

“It was a mistake. All of it. We never should have tried to be more than friends.”

“Was the first kiss at least good?”

“He tasted like mud and defeat. We’d just lost a rugby game.” Peeta laughs and tears off a sheet to show me his drawing. “Stop dressing me up. I look sexy in that.”

“You are so fucking sexy it’s not fair,” Peeta says, silencing my protests with a kiss. I wrinkle my nose and he pulls back. “Do I taste like mud?”

“Charcoal,” I say, swiping at a smudge near his mouth. When it’s gone, we kiss for real, stopping just shy of too much to handle because he’s determined to get the drawing just right.

“Glimmer was right. We should never have gotten married. We should have just tried to raise Karina without our sad attempts at building a relationship, but I was trying to do the honorable thing and she was afraid of her dad.”

“Well that was dumb,” I say, wincing at my bluntness but he laughs.

“It really was.”

“Why’d you even date her to begin with? I never understood that.”

“Sex,” he answers simply. I tug the sheets up higher to cover my bare breasts. “I was eighteen and horny as fuck. She wanted to go all the time. And I do mean. All. The. Time. Really, that’s how I should have known something was wrong. We hadn’t been intimate in almost two years, and the few times we were, it was a disaster. Then right around the time she started her affair with Cato, she started acting like she did when we were dating. To me, though, it was out of nowhere. I was starting to chafe from all the blow jobs and stupidly thought it meant we were going to be okay.”

“Do you think she did it because she felt guilty?”

“Maybe. But no, not really. I think she was trying to keep me from figuring it out. But the sad thing is...I didn’t even know her favorite color. I still can’t tell you what it was.”

“What’s favorite color got to do with anything?” I ask testily, not too happy with the idea of Peeta and Glimmer fucking like rabbits, even if it was over a year and a half ago when they filed for divorce.

“It was more a sign that we never really talked or got to know each other,” he says. “Instead we were living with a dead corpse for a marriage and just spraying Febreeze, wondering why the house stank so badly.”

He even moves his hand through the air, brandishing an imaginary can of air freshener. I can’t help it, I laugh at the mental image. Peeta smiles with me and then he tucks back a strand of my hair.

“Your favorite color is orange,” I say. His hand freezes for a moment. “Soft orange, like the sunset.”

“Yours is green,” he whispers and I smile, nodding as more words leave his lips. “You pile marshmallows on your hot chocolate, can’t actually stand coffee, so don’t think I didn’t see that face you made when we drank it just now because I did. Cheese is your comfort food. You bite your nails when you’re nervous or scared. You drive with the windows down and your music so low you can’t hear it, but the bass high enough that you can still feel it.”

To distract myself from what he just said, I try to draw him and only manage a caricature. Instead I lay on my stomach and sing while he draws. Page after page littering the bed and then his frenzy stops.

He traces a lone finger up my back and I shiver, although the cold can’t touch me. Not with the fire in Peeta’s eyes as he shoves aside his sketches and moves to kiss the line of my spine. His hand winds beneath me and lifts me off the bed, up into his lips as he kisses me. I spread my knees to hold myself up, pressed into the warmth of his chest and mouth on my back. His hand slips between my legs and before long, I’m thrusting to take his fingers, my moans filling the room and his hard cock teasing my backside, branding me with his clear desire.

I reach for the box on the nightstand and tear into the foil packet, handing it back to him and urging him to hurry. His knees bracket my hips, keeping my legs tight together. His head meets my lips and then we’re one again. Slow. Deep. A kiss on my back. Soft touches everywhere. A twist of a nipple. Warm sheets cradling me as I lay flat again. Hot palms holding me steady as he rocks into me. Rocks rocks rocks and then the moans. Calloused flesh of his palms on me, whispered words. Sheets in fists, I lift my hips and a stroke turns into a smack. A grunt and a gasp. A plea and then...oh god and then I keep bouncing my hips up to meet his forceful thrusts. I come apart the second before he does, keening into the night and then biting my wrist in a pathetic attempt to contain the emotions cascading through me.

Euphoria. Bliss. And love.

_I love you, oh god I love you so much. I need you. Never let me go._

The words escape in silent tears as Peeta finishes. I bury my face in the pillow with a groan, hiding the words -- the tears -- in the fluff of Peeta’s bed.

As he pulls out of me, I bite back a cry at the bereft feeling he leaves. It’s soon gone, though, since he rolls onto his back and takes me with him. We lay side by side, fingers wandering up and down legs until our skin cools. When it does and I shiver, Peeta cuddles me close, warming me with his body and the layers of blankets that are hopelessly tangled by now. The coffee wears off and I feel myself sinking deep into sleep. Right before I do, I hear him whisper to me.

“I love you, Katniss. And I always will.”

I fall asleep filled with joy. And hope.


	23. December 22nd - In All This White

The music continues until I accept that I am done with sleep, my arm sluggish as I reach to silence it. The phone that I pick up isn’t mine, though. At least I have enough presence of mind to hit _Snooze_ instead of turning it off. In the welcome silence that follows, sleep continues to escape me. Maybe it’s the almost stifling warmth of the blankets enveloping me. One of us must have straightened them at some point in the night. Maybe it’s the delicious ache between my legs or the soreness in my thighs and butt. Maybe it’s the itchiness that’s taken up residence in my legs, a result of perspiring in knit socks and then sleeping in them all night. Or maybe it’s the giddy smile that I can’t seem to wipe from my face when I stretch to alleviate the aches in my body. Whatever it is, I’m still smiling as I turn my head and stare at the back of Peeta’s.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Whatever it is, I lay there and let it sink in. He’s still asleep, and even though last night exceeded all of my expectations, I feel the need for a moment to myself before he wakes. He’ll need to rise soon for work; it’s still one of the busiest times of the year for him. And we’ll need to set the house to rights before he has to head into the bakery, or risk all kinds of awkward questions from Karina.

I find the shirt of his that I wore for part of last night and slip it back on to head into the bathroom. After a refreshing shower, I take extra time to slather lotion all over my legs, towel dry my hair and braid it carefully. I can’t find the sweater that I want to wear today and don Peeta’s robe once more to go search the bag I left in the guest bedroom. It takes me a minute to find what I’m looking for and get dressed. By then, I’m refreshed and recharged, my mind cleared. As I approach the bedroom door, I can hear Peeta awake and talking to someone. When I open the door, his agitated tone and his words give me pause.

“--such an idiot. Of course she’s not here. Why would she be here?” He’s back in the gray pajama pants -- barefoot, bare chested, and hair disheveled. I catch sight of a few pink claw marks across his shoulders as he snatches up the scattered sketches and brusquely taps them into some kind of order before grasping at one that’s caught between the bed and the nightstand. “Who wants to hang around for the awkward morning after when you overshared, Peeta? No one, that’s who. You weren’t supposed to talk about your ex, remember? Or how about that romantic marriage comment. _I’m afraid of spiders, so you’ll just have to marry me_. Real smooth, dipshit.”

I bite my lip and try not to smile as he continues to berate himself, his voice mocking when he repeats some of the things he said last night. I used to think that he was close to perfect. He always seemed to know what to do or what to say. I’ve always known that deep down, he’s better than the rest of us. Truly good at heart. But as I watch him over analyze several things he said or did last night, it strikes me that we’re more alike than I thought. Both of us desperately presenting a brave face to the world, convincing them all that we have our lives together and all figured out despite the hurts and disasters thrown our way. In reality, we’re still just human and fallible. We’ve both made plenty of mistakes. And he’s let me see that side of himself, the one that no one else gets to see. Upset, angry, lost, scared, confused, hurting, vulnerable, uncertain, or just stressed to the limit and worn out. Imperfect.

“All you had to do was keep your big mouth shut. That’s it! Don’t open your big mouth and cock it up or scare the shit out of--” He turns around and his self-tirade dies in silence as our eyes meet. Peeta blinks once. Twice. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since somewhere around ‘awkward morning after,’” I tell him and his face turns pink with embarrassment.

“Oh good. I don’t need to give you the highlights then,” he says and I can hear the bite of self-doubt in his tone.

“I hope you don’t mind. I needed a shower after last night and didn’t want to wake you.” I slide across the carpet, toss aside his robe, and run my hands over his shoulders.

“That’s fine.” The sketches crinkle in his grip as I step onto his toes to get closer, pressing my hips into his as I wind my arms around his neck.

“You should be careful with those drawings. I rather liked most of them,” I say as he works his jaw. I can almost hear the gears in his brain turning as I press a soft kiss to his lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning?” he says and I smile before kissing his jaw.

“They say you’re only crazy if you answer your own questions.”

“Right,” he says and his arms finally circle my waist as I nuzzle his neck.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered and speechless. Think you’re up for making me breakfast, Speechless Mellark? I’m famished,” I say and then grin up at him. “Of course you are. Get dressed and report to the kitchen.”

“Well aren’t you a sassy little minx,” he says and then his mouth is on mine in a real ‘good morning’ kiss. The stack of sketches flutters back to the ground as our bodies mold together. I thread my fingers through his hair and savor the reawakened heat between us. But as much as I want to return to the bed to keep kissing him and maybe more, we have to start the day. Peeta seems to realize this too, because he’s the one to tug down on my shoulders and lift his head to end the kiss. “I’ll just take a quick shower.”

“I’ll clean up the downstairs if you finish up here, and I’ll get some tea started,” I say.

It’s a quiet morning, just the two of us straightening up the house and preparing then consuming breakfast together. We savor the food and the peace. And if he was expecting an awkward morning after, I guess I disappoint him. Because it feels like hundreds of other meals we’ve shared, the only difference in this one found in the gentle touches we indulge in, now that neither of us feels the need to hold back, and one searing kiss while we’re piling on layers to brave the cold morning. But neither of seems to be disappointed in the least.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” he says after we’ve cleared the thin layer of snow off my truck.

“See you then,” I stand on my toes for one last kiss, and his smile before he turns and climbs into his car leaves me feeling warm all morning long, through all my errands and last minute shopping stops. Such a silly thing. I have more important things to think about than romance and kissing or dating, but I can’t seem to stop. There’s a joyfulness in me that’s usually absent this time of year, only it’s not so much a feeling of butterflies in the stomach as it is the comfort of a favorite blanket wrapping my entire being in warmth.

I think of things that I haven’t yet dared to consider. Things like kissing Peeta at midnight on New Years or how much fun a summer camping trip at Blue Bell Lake would be with the three of us. Where I’d put my bookshelves in Peeta’s house if it became our house or how we’d spend holidays to appease our blended family and still find enjoyment in them ourselves. Words like _home_ and _family_ and _adoption_ keep pinging in my mind, inescapable and immutable. And maybe it’s still too soon to be thinking about these things, but I can’t silence the hope I feel anymore than I could prevent winter from melting into spring.

It’s when I’m in the grocery store, selecting ingredients for a dish to bring to my mother and Hazelle’s annual, jointly hosted, potluck style holiday dinner that an idea occurs to me. Even though he’s busy, I pause in the produce section to call Peeta. He’s barely said “Hello” to me before I push the invitation past my lips.

“You and Karina should come tomorrow night. To dinner. With me. And my family.” An older gentleman ambles by me, giving me an odd look. “If you want to.”

“Are you...are you serious?” he asks. The noise of the bakery fades and I hear a door close, muffling the sounds of the kitchen. He must have gone into his office.

I think about it for a moment. Dinner with the Everdeen/Hawthornes is always insane, especially with all of Madge and Gale’s kids. Maybe it’s not a great idea, I think, wishing I hadn’t been so impulsive. It’s definitely too soon for public appearances as a couple like that. Especially with nosy family involved.

“Katniss, we should...maybe think about what that would mean.”

“It would mean a really good dinner, and insanity like Hunter and Archer throwing their peas at each other, and possibly some drama if Prim and Rory haven’t gotten their issues worked out yet, and Haymitch drinking too much and telling inappropriate stories, and also probably an angry and recently neutered cat pawing at the turkey while Hazelle swats him with a spatula.” Peeta laughs at my stream of consciousness.

“When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought I’d ask.” I pluck at a leaf still clinging to an apple stem and wait for a more definite answer. He seems to be waiting for more certainty from me.

“Katniss? What brought this on?” he asks, keeping his voice low. “If this is because of last night--”

“It’s not,” I insist. I think of his kisses and the feel of him beside me, around me, inside me, and then I’m hot and glancing around the produce aisle, wondering if anyone here can read minds. When none of the old ladies digging through the yams gasp in horror or faint at the intimacy of my thoughts, I manage to keep talking. “I mean that’s part of it.”

“But not all of it?” Peeta prompts.

“No.” In the silence, I know that he won’t be letting me out of this one. He won’t just know what I want this time. What I need. Or maybe he does, but he needs me to say it for once. There’s no courage to be found in the crisp green flesh of the apples in front of me, though. “It’s just that...I’m in the produce section at the grocery store. I’m supposed to bring a vegetable dish. And there’s this display of apples that looks really tasty. And I was thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if Peeta and Karina could bring dessert this year? It usually falls on Prim and Rory, but they’re so busy they usually bring a box of cookies or something and it’s not that there’s something wrong with that; I just thought it’d be really nice to have a homemade apple pie for once.”

“You want me to make apple pie?”

“Yes and doesn’t your mother make a really good French silk pie?”

“Now my mother’s invited, too?” This invitation is getting out of hand but the truth is, I do know what I want. Maybe I’ve always known. I just have to be brave enough to go after it.

“Yes,” I say and straighten my spine. “Yes, your mother is invited. Because she’s a part of this family now, too. She might as well know what she’s getting into. So are you coming or not?”

He sighs and I can almost see him running a hand through his hair. “I’ll have to talk to Mom. I’m just not sure if this is such a good idea so soon.”

“Why not?” He fumbles for a moment and I think about what he said about his marriage with Glimmer. I need him to know that there’s so much more between us. A stronger foundation. There always has been, maybe because we were friends first, but whatever it is growing between us now… I’m almost angry that he doesn’t see it too. “Where did you think this was going? You don’t think this was just some game I’ve been playing, do you? A bit of holiday fun?”

“No! I don’t…”

“Did you really think I’d toy with either you or Karina that much?”

“I don’t know!” Peeta says, the force of his voice surprising me. “I don’t know, Katniss. I know what I want, but I don’t know if it’s the same thing you want.”

And there it is. I can still hear him whispering that he loves me last night. See his sleeping face when I whispered it to him. He hasn’t heard the words from my lips yet. I open my mouth to say it, just say it already. But this isn’t how I want to tell him -- over the phone while I’m in the produce aisle listening to plunky muzak playing in the background and a mother blowing bubbles at her baby while she selects broccoli -- and the words transform into something else.

“Right now, I want you at dinner tomorrow. As part of my family. You. Karina. Felicity. Because if we can survive that, then I think we can survive just about anything together.”

There’s a long pause and then a soft word. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, alright. We’ll be there.”

“Good. Text me your grocery list and I’ll pick up what you need.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

“Good.” I nod my satisfaction to no one in particular.

After we hang up, I browse the fresh cut herbs and poke through the acorn squash, looking for the perfect one. His texted grocery list arrives and since he only needs a few things, I’m done quickly. On my way home, I stop by a Starbucks for a quick pick-me-up hot chocolate. The house is oddly quiet with just me in it. Other than the half hour or so I spent here alone getting ready for our date last night, I don’t believe I’ve ever had the place all to myself.

To start with, I need music. Scrolling through the options on my phone, I select a couple Christmas songs I can actually stand to listen to and start them playing, tucking my phone in my back pocket so the music follows me. I unload the groceries then spend a few moments going through my clothes and organizing them, starting a load of my laundry since it’s probably needed. Lunch and then I putter around before settling on the couch with a book. I’ve made it through two chapters when my playlist stops and the silence gets to me again.

Karina should be home by now. Peeta said Felicity would drop her off after lunch. I check my phone for messages and when I see that I haven’t missed anything, I call Karina. No need to get anyone into a panic. I’ll just check on her real quick. There’s no answer so I call Felicity next.

“I dropped Karina and Meaghan at the movie theater,” Felicity says when I explain why I’m calling. “I already let Peeta know. Their movie ends in about half an hour and I’ll drop them both at home then.”

I’m slightly annoyed that Peeta didn’t tell me himself and left me to worry, but then I remember that I’m not Karina’s mother. Yet.

“I can pick them up,” I offer and Felicity doesn’t even question it, although she does hesitantly mention that she’s looking forward to dinner tomorrow night. When I get off the phone with her, I text Peeta to let him know the latest change of plans.

_Talked to your Mom. I’m getting the girls after their movie. Would have been nice to know the change in plans…_

It’s so passive agressive, but I need him to know I’m not fooling around.

I send a text to Karina, too. That way she knows whose car to look for. Might as well let Madge know while I’m keeping everyone informed. It’s after I’ve texted Madge and she sends me a quick _Okay!_ that Peeta answers me.

**_Sorry about that. We got insanely busy for an hour or so here. I wasn’t trying to keep you in the dark. Honestly, I just wasn’t sure how involved you wanted to be this early._ **

I thought my invitation this morning would make things fairly clear for him, but I guess there’s still some doubt surviving in his head. I type two words and send them before I can overthink it.

_Completely involved_

I imagine snuffing out his doubts with the simple press of a thumb on a blue arrow. I hope it’s enough for now.

**_Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?_ **

I’m ready to fire back a retort when my phone makes a noise I’ve never heard before. My breath leaves my lungs in a loud hiss as I stare at the notification.

**_Peeta Mellark             ACCEPT  
_ ** _Shared Calendar_

My thumbs hover over the screen and goosebumps break out over my skin. This isn’t early, at least not to me. And I know, this was always where we were headed. Maybe there’s still room for going slow, but there isn’t room for fostering doubt. We’re balancing the need to be cautious with the need for zero ambiguity between us.

I press to ACCEPT and then scroll through the days laid out ahead of us. School events, piano lessons, Girl Scouts, the food bank, and even important dates for the bakery like when large orders are expected or taxes and financial reports are due to his brother, who holds ownership.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, I pick a few events off my own calendar to share. Big ones, like the dinner tomorrow and my meeting with the Mayor after the New Year. When I’m done, it’s time for me to go pick up Karina and Meaghan.

When I first reach the theater, I don’t see them, so I make a circle of the parking lot. It’s slushy and I’m so focused on not spinning my tires that I don’t notice the girls until Karina is yanking my door open and climbing in. I manage to get the truck stopped before Meaghan follows. She glances at Karina and then me, eyes worried for a second before she pastes on a bright smile.

“Hey Miss Katniss! Thanks for the ride!” Meaghan says.

“Hey girls. How was the movie and the sleepover?”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, great.” I turn in my seat to stare at them, just in time for Meaghan to elbow Karina and hiss something under her breath. Like a lightbulb, Karina smiles and launches into stories about how much fun they had last night.

She barely stops to take a breath while I drive. Really only stopping to say goodbye to Meaghan when we drop her off at her house and Karina moves to the front seat. I try interjecting at a few points, but Karina just talks louder for a second until I shut my mouth again. Something is up with her, but I resolve to wait until we get back to the house to pry. Now I know what Peeta meant the day that we talked about names and their meanings after Elaina Jacobs said a few mean things to her. When he said he couldn’t get to talk about what was bothering her.

Finally, there’s a pause in Karina’s speech as she wrestles with getting her boots off.

“How about I help you unpack and then we can bake some Christmas cookies.”

“No!” Karina says and clutches her bag to her chest, cheeks pink. She wavers under my gaze.

“You have a problem baking cookies with me?” I ask and she shakes her head. Seems to be considering the wisdom of lying or telling the truth. I’ve caught Prim in enough fibs to know what it looks like.

“I...I um just thought maybe we should wait for Dad to do the baking?”

“He’ll probably be tired of working in the kitchen when he gets home tonight. And I’ve added an apple pie to his task list for tomorrow,” I admit.

“Oh. Well. Why don’t we just watch a movie? That could be fun.”

“Karina--”

“Nothing happened!” she shouts, but there are tears forming in her eyes. “Just...Stop trying to act like you’re my Mom!”

It’s a slap to the face. I stagger back as she spins around and races through the kitchen up to her room. I jump when the door slams. Again when loud music makes the house vibrate with the force of whatever is bothering her.

I pace in the kitchen while her music rocks the house, debating what to do. I consider calling Peeta. Or Madge to see if she can pry some information out of Madge. I’m ashamed to admit that I think of leaving. Licking my wounds because it’s now obvious that we were wrong. I overstepped somewhere, and I don’t know how.

I open my phone and stare at my most recent text messages. Prim is at the top, a quick discussion of her relief at being responsible for wine instead of dessert tomorrow because it’s perfectly acceptable for her to just go purchase wine.

And then I’m thinking of the days when I fought with her. When my mother was sunk so far in depression that I feared she’d never return. We both chose to deal with it in different ways. Work, hunt, find a way to survive for me. Prim, on the other hand, washed and braided our mother’s hair. Sang to her. Talked to her. Until one day, she accused me of being cold and not wanting our mother back.

It was the worst fight we’ve ever had.

I set aside my phone and climb the stairs. Fix my face into one I haven’t used since Prim finally grew up and our mother came back to us. Pound on the door.

“Go away!” Karina says desperately, and that’s how I know something is truly wrong.

“I’m not going anywhere, Karina!” I shout. “We’ve got a Christmas dinner with my mother, your Gramma, and Meaghan’s entire family tomorrow night and I need your help baking cookies or they’ll be lopsided or some other weird such thing. And while that would be funny--” The music stops and the door opens. I cross my arms and hide my triumph, my worry as I take in her tear stained face.

“What’s the point? You should just leave. You’re going to anyways one of these days, so just go now!”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t,” I whisper. “Don’t you remember what we told you yesterday morning?”

“That was yesterday,” Karina says, but some of the bite has left her voice. It wavers now.

“You didn’t even ask how my date went with your Dad,” I say softly. “I thought you’d want to hear all about it.”

“Wy should I?” she asks, her lip quivering. “She’s just going to--to--take it all away again!”

“Who is?” I ask and slowly wrap my arms around Karina. Fear rises up in me at her words. She buries her face in my chest and grips the back of my sweater.

“My mother,” she whispers. I can feel my body stiffen in reflex and Karina tries to pull away. I hold her tighter, not allowing escape.

“What makes you say that?” I murmur. Karina takes a few deep breaths. I’ve about resigned myself to calling Peeta to help when she starts talking. Slow and measured this time.

“I saw her today. We’d just bought our tickets for the movie and we had some time before it started so we went across the street to a store. Meaghan wanted to look at the soccer gear. To see if there were any good deals on cleats since she needs new ones. And when we came back outside, she was waiting for us. She grabbed my arm and tried to hug me, but I didn’t even recognize her at first. Not until she took off the sunglasses she was wearing and...Katniss, she looked _awful_. She -- she had a -- a black eye. And I don’t know, she just looked so _weird_ and she kept asking about Dad and promised that everything could be like it was before and that she never really wanted to leave but _he_ made her do it and I don’t know who she meant and-- and she -- she wanted me to call Dad. So I -- I tried to give her my phone because I was scared and didn’t know what else to do but it got dropped in the slush and it cracked -- and we ran. We hid in the movie theater until we saw your truck.”

I’m carefully controlling my breathing by the time she’s done. Rage filling me that Glimmer would waltz so carelessly into Karina’s life and upend everything. Again. After all that she’s done to them both. Maybe Peeta made mistakes in their marriage. Maybe he wasn’t a perfect husband. But there is no excuse for her treatment of Karina.

And I admit that there’s a small part of me that fears losing them both -- Peeta and Karina -- to her perfectly manicured clutches again. Maybe not directly, but in spirit. I don’t know. But what I do know is that Karina’s well being is paramount.

“She didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Karina whispers. “I mean, it hurt a little when she grabbed me, but I’m okay now. Except…”

“What is it?” I ask, running my hand over her hair, hoping to soothe the fears.

“Her nails were all chipped. Like they hadn’t been painted in a few days. She’d never…”

I roll this over in my head. Black eye, chipped nail polish, less than immaculate appearance. That doesn’t sound at all like Glimmer and I wonder if and how she’s fallen on hard times.

“Are you sure it was her?” I ask and Karina nods.

“Positive.”

We’re silent for a moment while I try to decide what to do. What I really want to do is climb in my truck, drive downtown, find Glimmer, and blacken her other eye. But somehow, I know that won’t solve a thing. It might make me feel better for a moment. Maybe longer.

“How did you know to look for my truck if you lost your phone?”

“Meaghan’s Mom texted her to let her know.”

“Why don’t we go downstairs and make some hot chocolate?” I offer and Karina leans back in my embrace to look me in the eyes.

“You’re not leaving?”

“No,” I tell her, holding her cheek in my palm to show her that I mean it. A soft smile curves up her lips and she sniffles.

“Okay, well. Hot chocolate sounds good.”

Arms still wrapped around each other, we head down the stairs. We’re on our second mug when we speak of it again.

“We’re going to tell your Dad.” Karina cringes at my words, her eyes going wide.

“Do we have to?”

“He’s going to want to know because he loves you.”

“Yeah, but what if he takes her back?”

“He won’t,” I say with more conviction than I feel.

“How can you be so sure?” As I stare into my mug, I’m not. But when I lift my eyes to look at Karina, I am certain.

“Because of you, Karina. He won’t take her back because he would never willingly give her the chance to hurt you again. And you are his whole life.”

She blinks and contemplates this for a few minutes, until the whirring of the garage door opening makes her sit up and her eyes widen with worry.

“It’ll be okay,” I promise her, tucking back a loose strand of hair. “Just tell him the truth. I’ll be right here, okay?”

This seems to give her more confidence so that when Peeta walks into the kitchen, her face is stained with tears but determined.

“Hey what do you say we -- what happened?”

Peeta’s face and voice change with lightning speed when he sees the expression on Karina’s face. Her lip quivers for a second but then she starts talking, the story coming out in halting phrases while Peeta leans over the island, not even bothering to remove his coat, and grips her hands in his. He’s silent the whole time she speaks.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to lose my phone,” she finishes.

“Oh Kare-Bear, I don’t care about the phone,” Peeta says, moving to hug her. She falls into his arms as he whispers soft questions to make sure she’s really okay, soothing words to ease the aches in her young heart. And I sit back, allowing them some space until Peeta’s eyes find mine, pinning me in place.

Once Karina’s okay, we move through the awkward motions of fixing and consuming dinner. Manage to play a round or two of board games to keep ourselves distracted. Pretending that nothing out of the ordinary has happened. And while he tries to hide it, I can tell that Peeta is restless. The events of the afternoon appear to weigh on him. After Karina’s in bed, I change into my pajamas and find him in the kitchen, staring at the open weather app on his phone.

“Temperatures are dropping. It’s supposed to snow again tonight.”

I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe, fighting back tears. Wondering if maybe I was all wrong in reassuring Karina today.

“A black eye?” Peeta says and I nod. “Shit.”

He curses a few more times and grabs a travel mug from the cabinet, slamming the door and angrily fixing himself a coffee. But once the lid is on, he curses again, dropping the coffee pot in the sink to wash. It shatters and he moves to clean it up. Once the glass is dealt with, he braces his hands on the counter and falls completely still. Like he’s not sure what to do anymore.

 

I bite my lip and bounce my foot, waiting for the blow. It doesn’t come, and I decide to bring it on myself. There’s no point in waiting and wondering.

“You should go. Go get her.”

“Katniss,” he says and I shake my head.

“I should have known this was too good to be true,” I say waving a hand through the air. Peeta scoffs and moves to hold my face gently in his palms. His thumbs wipe away my tears. Then he says something that truly confuses me.

“Do you have Johanna Mason’s number?”

“What?” I ask, shaking my head.

“You work with her, right? Please, Katniss. I just want to deal with this and be done with it, once and for all, okay?”

I blink and then open my phone, bringing up Johanna’s number and handing it to him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and then, to my surprise, puts the phone on speaker while he calls Johanna.

“Brainless! I’m hoping you’re calling with some juicy sex deets, because I am b-o-r--”

“Jo, it’s not Katniss,” Peeta interrupts and Johanna goes silent for a moment. “It’s Peeta Mellark. Do you still volunteer at that battered women’s shelter on Orchard Street?”

“Uh...yes,” Jo says.

“How do I go about checking someone into it?”

“What sort of kinks are you into, Bread Head?” Johanna asks with only a touch of her usual acerbic humor in her voice.

“It’s Glimmer,” he says and Johanna swears.

“Fuck, I knew it. I warned you, didn’t I?”

“You can save the gloating for later, okay?”

Johanna rattles off information to Peeta then, and he types it into the notes on his phone. When he hangs up with her, it takes him a moment to lift his eyes to meet mine. I don’t even know where to start or what to ask.

“Jo and I were in the same divorce support group.”

“Oh,” I say, unable to form any other words. He hands his phone back to me and then opens up another app on his. A sort of “Where’s My Phone.” When he presses FIND, it searches for a few seconds and then a blinking red dot pinpoints Karina’s phone in relation to his. It’s nowhere near the movie theater.

“Katniss, I…” Peeta trails off, seemingly struggling with something he wants to say. “Do you have any idea how much it meant to me today? After everything that happened last night? This last year? It seems so silly. A dinner invitation and sharing a calendar, but it meant the world to me. It meant that…”

“It meant what?” Then I ask when he can’t finish, “What will you do if you can’t find her?”

His hand bounces, weighing his phone in his palm. “I’ll look until midnight. If I can’t find her by then, I’ll come home.”

I nod and then finally uncross my arms to wind them around his neck. A strange sort of desperation rises up inside me, despite what I told Karina earlier. But his lips on mine dissolve the desperation and when he lifts his head, I am no longer afraid.

“I’ll see you at midnight, then,” I say and press one more kiss to his lips before letting him go. I watch his car as he drives down the street, unsurprised when I turn around and find Karina in the doorway, shaking in fury.

“He went after her,” she accuses and I nod. “Why?”

I don’t even know myself, but as I stand there imagining Glimmer’s crazed and bruised face as Karina described it, the image somehow merges with the dead look in my mother’s eyes after my father died. The two seem so unrelated and yet somehow entwined.

“Because sometimes things happen to people, and they are not equipped to deal with it,” I say. Karina seems to mull this over, her clenched fists slowly relaxing.

“He’ll be back?”

“He said he’d be back by midnight,” I tell her, and before she can ask, I answer the rest of her fears. “And I plan on still being here when he gets back. He owes me an apple pie for tomorrow night and I am not letting him back out of that agreement.”

Karina smiles and I roll my eyes in a sad attempt to bring some levity to the house.

“Come on. Neither of us is going to sleep, so we should figure out something to do.”

“I have an idea!” Karina says, her usual enthusiasm returning as she races into the kitchen and starts pulling out ingredients.

“Cookies? I ask and she nods. I repeat the motion in agreement. “Cookies.”

We talk and bake until late into the night. I tell Karina a little about my family and my childhood. She worries about Peeta, and so do I. We talk a little about Glimmer, and together come to an understanding of sorts, although I’d still like for Peeta to confirm it tomorrow.

“I guess I just don’t understand why _he_ had to go help her,” Karina says at one point, blowing hair off her forehead because her hands are messy with frosting and flour.

“Well, because he could,” I say, thinking of the phone app and how much time that would save him if Glimmer still has Karina’s phone. “And besides...if it were anyone other than Glimmer -- Meaghan’s Mom, your science teacher that you like so much, me -- wouldn't you want him to help her? Because it’s the right thing to do?”

“I guess so,” Karina admits as she straighten and examines her pfeffernusse. Cookies cover the entire kitchen, every available surface taken up with almond cremes, peanut butter blossoms, ginger snaps, snowflake sugar cookies, and even a few batches of fudge. “Sometimes things happen to people, and they’re not equipped to deal with them,” she whispers. Then she turns luminous blue eyes to me and smiles softly. “I guess that’s why we’re supposed to help each other without expecting anything in return.”

I smile and nod, holding back the overwhelming feeling of pride and love burgeoning in my chest.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” she asks, her face shifting as she realizes just how much we have. I laugh and she joins me within seconds.


	24. December 23rd - You'll See Me Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies for cliffhangers or red herrings. Mwahahahahahaha!

The fingers brushing across my cheek and the whisper of my name startle me awake. I’m rigid and wide-eyed, disoriented and gripping his wrist, poised to defend myself until I see his face right in front of me and relax.

“You’re back,” I say. My voice is scratchy after so little, poor sleep. He looks tired and worn, but otherwise fine.

“You’re still here,” he says and twists our hands so that he’s holding mine gently. Brings it up to his lips.

“I wouldn’t leave her alone,” I say, my eyes glancing over at Karina’s sleeping form, huddled into a ball under a pile of blankets at the other end of the couch. They’ve been pulled back slightly, uncovering her face. Peeta must have done that, checked on her before he woke me, because I know she fell asleep completely covered.

“No, I know you wouldn’t,” Peeta says. I relax back into the cushions a little, supposing that I could have called his mother and fled, but I guess I just thought Karina would need me to stay.

“Besides, there was a spider in the bathroom earlier. Had to stick around after I dispatched him in case his buddies came to avenge his death.”

For a moment, Peeta just stares at me. Then his eyes widen and he laughs, the sound deep and soft.

“What time is it?” I ask, taking our still clasped hands and tucking them under my cheek, soothing my skin on the cool back of his hand. He sent a text message around a quarter to midnight, saying only that he’d found Glimmer and was headed to the shelter. That he’d let me know when he was on his way home. Karina was already out by then, exhausted from the stress of the day and our baking frenzy. I fell asleep on the couch shortly after.

“It’s almost one,” he says and I yawn. “I sent a text when I was headed back here.”

“Was asleep,” I murmur. I can still catch faint traces of cinnamon and dill on his skin. From the bakery and our dinner, I think.

“You didn’t think I’d be back?” he asks softly and I shake my head, letting my eyes slide shut for a moment, enjoying the way his voice makes my spine tingle.

“I knew you would if you could. Icy roads. Was worried.”

“I’m gonna take Karina upstairs and then…” He trails off and I hone in on his eyes. He seems so unsure of what to say or do.

“Maybe a shower?” I suggest and he nods.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay,” I murmur and let go of his hand. He lifts Karina, blankets and all, to carry her upstairs.

“Daddy?” she mumbles.

“I’m here, Kare-Bear. Just moving you to your bed.”

“We baked cookies,” she says, her words distorted around her own yawn. I follow them, turning off lights as I go. Her head pops up over Peeta’s shoulder and I smile at her. She relaxes back into his arms after she’s assured herself that I’m still here, too.

“I saw. There’s a mess in the kitchen,” but he sounds amused rather than upset. We did manage to get all of the cookies into some extra boxes that are probably meant for the bakery, but the sink is full of dirty dishes. I’ll take care of it in the morning. I’m just glad he’s home safe.

The knot of worry I’ve been carrying with me begins to unravel as he sets Karina in her bed and straightens the blankets to reform her cocoon. He whispers that they’ll talk in the morning and that he loves her. She whispers it back. A pang hits me as I wonder if I’m allowed that liberty yet. I don’t know how Glimmer’s reappearance will affect what’s been happening between us.

Peeta clicks off the bedside lamp and shuts the door. Then he’s by my side, fingers sliding against mine. Our fingers twine together and hold firm. I lift my eyes to his and the rest of the knot unwinds. Hand in hand, we walk down the hall to his room -- our room now, I guess. His grip loosens once the door is closed, but I refuse to let him go. I don’t want another door closing between us. Not even the frosted glass of a shower door.

“Would you care to join me?” he asks. My heart thumps and I nod. Peeta starts the water and one piece at a time, we undress ourselves, discarding layers until we’re bare. I can’t help my quick perusal of him. It’s not that I believe he’d hurt me that way, but I guess I’m still scared that I pale in comparison to Glimmer’s buxom beauty, that what Peeta and I have is still new enough that she could trample it beneath the towering designer shoes she always seemed to prefer. But I see nothing that would make me think he did anything with Glimmer other than what he said he would.

Find her. Take her to the shelter. Get her started with the help she needs. End it once and for all.

Once we’re in the shower, we’re almost mechanical in our motions of washing. When the last of the suds swirls around the drain then disappears, I wind my arms around his neck, pressing our bodies together. His arms circle my waist and draw us closer. He bends his head, his lips touching a spot on my neck. I shiver once, but it’s from the warmth that seems to bloom from the contact. We’re so close that the water from the shower begins to pool in the chalice made by my chest pressed up against his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “But I think I probably should.”

I wait for him to continue, fingers massaging the back of his neck and base of his scalp.

“I found her a few blocks from our old house, and the first thing she did was accuse me of taking Karina away from her. Of throwing away everything we had and poisoning our daughter against her. Of moving on to someone else too fast.” He makes a noise of disgust.

I keep caressing and waiting. They moved shortly after the divorce was finalized. Peeta said they couldn’t afford the house they were renting on just his income. And I think a part of him wanted to get both him and Karina out of there. Away from the memories and the hurt and the betrayal. The same reasons he bought an entirely new bed -- frame, mattress, linens. All of it. Glimmer’s skin hasn’t touched a single piece of Peeta’s bed.

“She stuck around the movie theater, waiting for Karina and Meaghan to come back out, thinking I’d be the one to pick them up. But then she saw the girls get into your truck. She -- well someone was definitely beating up on her. So I talked her into getting in the car and started driving towards the shelter. Took me close to half an hour just to get her in the car.

“Once I did, she completely changed her tone. She kept talking about how wrong she’d been about Cato and how wonderful things would be now that we were back together, even though I kept telling her that wasn’t gonna happen. It didn’t sink in until she realized we were headed away from every residential area in town. Then she got angry again. Almost desperate.”

We sway for a moment and his hands clench on my back.

“I told her that I wasn’t going to leave her alone to freeze or die because we did have history and I can’t do that to Karina’s birth mother, and I agreed that she should go somewhere Cato couldn’t get to her. Where she could maybe find a path to a fresh start. But that wasn’t with me.

“And I told her that she gave up her claims to Karina. She tried to say that Cato made her do that, manipulated her into it. I believe her about that to some degree, but at the same time...I won’t let her hurt Karina again. Not if I can help it, and I don’t trust her not to walk out again, even if it’s just from a second chance at a shared custody arrangement. So I told Glimmer that I want her to have a good future, but she wouldn’t be seeing Karina. That I won’t be changing the custody. To stay away from Karina or I’d take legal action against her. Fuck I felt like such a monster saying that when she had a black eye and a bruised neck, Katniss. It’s a miracle she got away from him and made it all the way back here, but what else am I supposed to do? How else am I supposed to protect my daughter?”

I turn my head to press a kiss to his ear. Reassure him that he did the right thing, what was best for Karina.

He keeps talking about nightmare scenarios of things he doesn’t know, like if Cato was ever around Karina before Glimmer gave up her custody. If Cato ever touched Karina and how much fear and rage he feels at the possibility. More jumbled phrases of things Glimmer told him about her life the past year. I feel inconveniently sorry for her. What she did to Karina was wrong. But no one deserves the treatment she received at Cato’s hands either.

I hold him while he talks, letting the words swirl with the water then wash away from us, down the drain. I listen until his words are spent and the water is turning cold.

I’m not surprised by anything he says. I figured Glimmer would try to work her way back into their lives through any coercion she could try, but that Peeta wouldn’t allow it, if for nothing other than for Karina’s sake.

“What about you?” I finally ask.

“Me? What about me?”

“I mean seeing her again, you didn’t regret…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought, because even though I acted as though I was confident in Peeta’s return to us, that had more to do with Karina. I have no idea how much his own self-preservation or our growing relationship played a role in his actions tonight, if any.

Peeta slides out of my embrace a little and looks down at me, his brow furrowed.

“I guess I’m asking if she tried to...sweet talk you into taking her back or…” I still can’t say it.

“She tried. And failed. I told her in no uncertain terms that I had moved on, and that...I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time,” he says. I bite my lip and nod, glad for the water trickling down my face and the refuge it affords me to release a few tears of tension.

“All I could think about the whole time was getting back here to you and Karina. Both of you,” Peeta says, and I blink water out of my eyes, surprised at how firm his voice is. His palm cups my cheek and I tilt my head into the caress. “I’ve wanted this for so long and I’ve been holding it all back, afraid to show you or overwhelm you because sometimes it scares even me a little. And I was so torn last night because I couldn’t leave her without help if she needed it, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of driving you away.”

His lips brush mine. A wordless question that I answer with the full force of my need, pressing into him as we kiss wildly. Joy unfurls from my heart and I smile into the kiss. But we’re both shivering soon, the cold water cutting short our touches. We hurry from the shower and Peeta brusquely rubs over my towel to warm my body, but my teeth still chatter. We overdress in layers of pajamas and huddle beneath his blankets. When my shivers finally cease, Peeta still hasn’t stopped brushing his fingers over my damp hair.

“You have my heart, Katniss. No one can take it from you. No one,” Peeta whispers. It’s the last thing I hear before I fall asleep and the first thing I think of when I wake and Peeta’s dragging himself from the bed. I groan and he reaches back to caress over my face.

“Skip work,” I mumble. He has to be exhausted.

“Can’t. I’m opening today. I’ll just go in for a little while, take care of a couple things and see if I can call in Thresh for an assist, if you and Karina will be okay sleeping in while I’m gone. When I get back, I’ll talk to her about last night. I want you with me for that. Will you?”

“Yes,” I say, scooting closer to the last remaining bits of his heat in the sheets. “Bring cheese buns for breakfast.”

Peeta chuckles and kisses me before he leaves. He can’t be gone long because I fall asleep and then wake right back up to him climbing into bed with me. I glance at the clock, surprised to see that he actually was gone for at least a couple hours.

“Everything okay?” I ask and he hums, his hands warm as they slide beneath my pajama top and pull me to him.

“Karina’s still fast asleep. Thresh has the bakery today in exchange for me going in tomorrow. Cheese buns are downstairs,” he tells me and nuzzles my ear. Then he falls still. I know I should let him sleep, but he’s awoken a ferocious need with a few simple kisses.

I caress my lips over his. Twice. He responds to the kisses, but otherwise remains motionless. I scoot closer and suck his bottom lip between mine this time. Sink my teeth into the delectable flesh. Peeta’s eyes open and we stare at one another for a moment.

I slide my hands beneath his pajama pants, leaving my thumbs hooked over the waist and tugging his hips into mine. After the fears of last night and everything building up to them, I wish I knew how to voice my feelings in this moment. I’m still a little hazy from sleep, though, and the least eloquent words slide past my lips. “I need you, Peeta.”

“We’d have to be quick,” he says, barely getting the words out around the kisses I cover him with.

“Then we’ll be quick,” I say and he gives up on sleeping, his lips laying claim to mine. Our bodies grinding together, rolling across the bed and tangling ourselves into the sheets. We’re in a frenzy, fingers flying to remove or push aside clothing until he’s covered in a condom and my pants hang on by one leg. We wind up on our sides again, facing each other as he slides into me. We barely move at first, constricted by this position. Restricted to slow, fluid rolls of our hips. But it gives us the time and luxury of soft words and softer gazes. Kisses with hands tangled in hair or brushed over the delicate skin of necks and shoulders, at least for a few moments. Until it’s no longer enough to feed the hunger blossoming inside me.

Peeta rolls me onto my back, slipping from me as we move. His knees bend and spread on the bed, pushing my legs open wide. I reach down as he slides his cock through my lips but doesn’t enter me again yet. He whispers and bites down on my earlobe while my hand follows his motions, caressing down the underside of his cock, my knuckles glancing off his lower abs.

He kisses up my jaw to my mouth and I whimper, nudge him so his tip opens me for him. Peeta lifts my hips as I tug him down into me. All the way. He’s barely hit home before he slides his hips away from mine, his hand cups beneath my neck and he rolls back into me. So slow. I caress over his hips, up his back. His movements pull soft sounds from me as I gradually arch beneath him and my nails curl into his shoulders.

“You have no idea how in love with you I am, Katniss,” he murmurs against my neck as he moves. “I wish I knew how to show you. How to prove it to you so that you’ll never doubt it again.”

“Uh,” I gasp. I twist my legs to brace my feet on the bed, seeking what is just beyond my reach with his careful thrusts.

“I want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta says and then groans, his teeth dragging over my cheek. I manage to bring a hand back down beneath his arm and cup his cheek. My thumb gets caught on the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicks over it, adding more fuel to the need burning me from the inside out. Then he joins our mouths, his hips still tormenting and fulfilling me.

“Oh god, Katniss,” he groans, ending the kiss. My nails rake down his arm then back up to grip his shoulder. He buries his face in my neck and I can’t keep my hand on his cheek. I grip his hair instead and he pushes his face further into me. His hot exhales caress down my neck and I can’t tell if it’s his pulse or mine throbbing between the connection of our skin. “Tell me you’ll allow that. That--” His words melt into a deep moan.

My brain can’t form words or articulate right now. I try to tell him with a tug on his hair, the arch of my body into his, the desperate motions of my hips beneath him, begging for more. A place in his heart, his home, his family. His arms.

He keeps moving, despite my silence, slowly nudging me closer. A door slams down the hall and we both freeze, limbs tangled, eyes wide as we listen to Karina shut her bathroom door and start the water for her shower. I glance towards the hall, relieved that Peeta’s bedroom door is at least closed.

“Is the door locked?” I whisper. Peeta shakes his head. The responsible thing would be to stop, but I’m strung so tight, so close. My whole body shudders, revolting against the thought of denial. Faint sounds of music drift between walls and doors. Still we wait a moment or two.

When nothing changes, Peeta shifts his knees and thrusts. Hard. I practically squeal, the pleasure intense spikes up through my frame. Biting my lip to contain the noise as he lays his weight over me, covers my mouth with one hand.

“You. Have. To. Be. Quiet. Katniss,” he hisses each word through his teeth, each with one deep, measured thrust that brings tears to my eyes. Not in pain, but rapture. Electric shocks of it as he drives into me. Over and over. And even he can feel it, quietly cursing. “Fuck!”

Face buried in my shoulder to contain his own noises, Peeta doesn’t relent. I feel the sharp bite of his teeth and hold tight to the back of his head with both hands. I squeeze my eyes shut until sparks ignite behind my eyes. In my heart, between my legs. Everywhere. I’m shaking head to toe, powerless to stop the pulses of heat or the muffled squeal of delight that fills his palm.

When I’m gasping wordlessly, but otherwise quiet, he lets go of my mouth, flattening his body on mine, gripping both my shoulders to pull my body down the bed as he thrusts up into me until he finds his own release. He moans into my shoulder, his hips grinding in a circle and then falling still. Pressed so tight into mine, his cock so deep that I wonder if he’s managed to find the end of me. We’re both panting and perspiring. Incapable of speech for a moment.

His arms shake a little as he lifts himself off of me and flops onto his back, his movements make the tangled sheets tug on my legs. We stare at one another until a giggle bubbles up in my chest. I try to stifle it but can’t stop them. Another one follows as soon as I stop the first.

“What’s so funny?” Peeta asks. And then his hands are on me again, making me weak and breathless as he tickles me without mercy. Until I find a spot right under his arms that makes him shout and squirm away from me. He tries to escape into the bathroom, but his legs wobble as he goes. I follow him on unsteady limbs and we crash into one another, his back up against the vanity. Then his lips are there, making my already weak legs turn molten. When he lifts his head, I smile stupidly, almost giddy with foolish happiness.

But we have a serious discussion to be had with Karina. We put aside our silliness and clean up a little, making ourselves presentable before we head downstairs. Peeta warms up the cheese buns and makes hot chocolate while I attack the mountain of dirty dishes from last night.

He’s just started slicing and peeling the apples for tonight’s pie when Karina enters the room, dressed in jeans and sweater, hair dried and in a simple braid, eyes wary and body stiff. I wonder if she took such a long shower to avoid facing the possibility that last night could have destroyed everything she wants.

“Morning,” Peeta says, sliding one of the island chairs out for her. I place a mug of cocoa and a plate with a warm cheese bun in front of her. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t...know,” Karina says, eyes sliding between us.

“We’d like to talk with you about what happened last night, but only if you want to,” Peeta says.

Karina tears a small piece of her roll of and dips it in the hot cocoa before popping it in her mouth. I hide a smile behind my hand, because that’s something Peeta does too. Karina chews for a while, contemplating his words and still watching us both, as though she’s searching for a crack in the facade. I slide into the chair next to her with my own cheese bun and chocolate, thinking of how closed off and angry I became after my father died and I stopped trusting my mother. To lose your faith in your mother...it’s devastating to a child. Damages your trust in everyone around you. But Karina won’t be alone like me. She has other people she can trust. Peeta. And hopefully me, too.

“Are you and Glimmer gonna get married again?” Karina asks and Peeta shakes his head vehemently.

“No. Not a chance.”

Karina’s shoulders relax and from there the discussion flows, sometimes rough as Peeta tries to explain the bruises on her mother’s face and body, why someone who claims to love you would do that. How it’s okay to leave someone if they hurt you instead of heal you, and how much courage it takes to do that. What to do if Glimmer shows up again. Hugs and tears and reassurances that Karina did exactly what she should have done getting away from her mother if she was scared. That in this case, running made her brave, not the opposite. And the same holds true for Glimmer leaving Cato. Karina repeats some of what she and I talked about last night, attempting to work through everything that’s happened and order it her mind so that she understands and can be brave again. Peeta soothes fears with confirmations that we were right last night. A helping hand, but it goes no further than that. At one point she turns to me and seems to waver.

“Would you like a hug?” I ask her.

“Are we still invited tonight?”

“Of course you are,” I say, the words barely done before her skinny arms wrap around my neck. My eyes jump up to Peeta’s as I return the embrace, and his smile could light the world.

We spend the rest of the day relaxing, relishing in the comfort of each other. The kitchen fills with the delicious scents of baking apple pie and simmering butternut squash soup. The words become easier, the smiles more real and genuine until the cheese buns are gone, two batches of hot chocolate consumed, and Karina is once more acting like herself.

Around noon, Peeta tells her to get dressed for dinner. Somehow, we both wind up in Peeta’s bathroom, elbows brushing as I braid my hair into something fancier than my usual look and Peeta brushes his teeth. His eyes have taken on an intense look of concentration I rarely get to see. At times when he’s drawing, when he’s troubled over the bakery’s earnings and finances, or that night so many days ago when he was learning how to French braid Karina’s hair. I wonder at the thoughts locked away in his head and lean over to kiss his cheek. The touch seems to to startle him out of whatever occupies him and he smiles at me.

“Here,” I say, picking up the tie laying across the counter. Peeta flips up his collar and I loop the silk around his neck. “You aren’t scared of my family, are you? Everyone there already knows you and Karina.”

“Maybe scared that we won’t be welcomed,” Peeta admits. “That the rest of your family will see our presence as an intrusion, or I won’t live up to expectations or--” I stand on my toes and kiss him, the half done tie still twisted around my fingers.

“They love you both already,” I assure him when I end the kiss. I finish the tie and when I look up at him again, the intense look is back, only it’s focused on me. “What?”

“Last time you fixed my tie, I was getting ready for a date,” he says.

“With someone else,” I say, scowling a little.

“With someone else, but when you were done...there were about five seconds when I could’ve sworn you were going to kiss me. I know I wanted you to,” he whispers.

That’s because I did want to kiss him in that moment. Maybe if I had, things would be different now. How much difference a year has made. Maybe I just wasn’t ready then. Maybe neither of us were. But now I know...you can lose yourself in the what if’s and might’ve beens… or you can grow. I know which I want for us.

The words stick in my throat. Instead, I wrap my fingers back around the finished tie and yank his head down to me, curling one arm around his neck and kissing him soundly. His hands splay on my back and hold me too him. Already, I want more. Maybe I always will with Peeta, but just when I’m thinking of climbing on the counter and unzipping his pants--

“Ahem,” Karina clears her throat in an unconvincing scold. Peeta lifts his head and I burn with embarrassment. “There’s not even any mistletoe in here.”

Karina grins and spins, her braid whipping about and her red tulle skirt flaring as she practically skips from the room, whistling what sounds suspiciously like _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_. Peeta sighs as we disentangle ourselves from one another.

“Remind me to talk to her about knocking etiquette when we get home,” he says, leaving one chaste kiss on my cheek before moving to finish getting dressed.

We take Peeta’s car because there simply isn’t enough room for all four of us in my truck. Karina fills any potential silence on the drive over to Felicity’s. While she slows down once Peeta’s mother is in the car with her French silk pie, there’s not much room for anything other than her excitement over getting to share tonight with her best friend and so many family members. At one point, Peeta starts tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. Felicity has her lips pursed and barely says a word. I’m regretting this decision already.

Until Peeta reaches over and takes my hand in his. I give him what I hope is a reassuring squeeze and he returns it.

No, I don’t regret asking them tonight. They might, though, I think as we park behind Rory’s brand new car. Gale mentioned Rory was thinking about getting something fast and new. I hadn’t realized he’d already gone through with it, but since I can identify every other car on the curb, it’s obvious who this one belongs to.

“How does he drive that thing in the snow?” Peeta asks, eyeing the flashy sports car, which I know has rear wheel drive.

“He keeps cinder blocks in the back?” I say with a shrug. Then I think of something else. “Maybe don’t ask about the car. Prim was freaked out over it a few weeks ago.”

“Okay,” Peeta says as he cuts his engine. He’s barely able to help Karina out of the back, the apple pie in her dubious care, before Meaghan shouts a greeting from the front door and Karina barrels across the snow towards her friend. He assists his mother next, relieving her of the second pie. We walk towards the bright open door, the sounds of teenage girl squeals echoing back out along with Haymitch’s shout to stop wasting heat.

“We can still turn back,” I mutter and Peeta laughs.

Hazelle steps into the doorway and smiles, always the gracious hostess. She embraces all three of us and welcomes us.

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Hawthorne. Where should we put the food?” Peeta asks.

“Oh please, it’s Hazelle. And we’re thrilled to have you. Katniss knows where the food goes, right?”

Peeta blushes at the reminder that we’re not all strangers to this tradition and I elbow him. “To the kitchen.”

“Felicity, we’re so happy you could join us,” my mother says as she walks up and embraces Peeta’s mother. She looks startled, her eyes wide and frightened. I almost feel guilty for abandoning her to socialize as Peeta and I make our way to the kitchen. Well not the kitchen exactly. There’s a huge open window right above the kitchen sink, in the wall between kitchen and dining room. That way, the cooks are never isolated from the action in the dining and living rooms. We place the food on the banquet beneath the window. I check out the spread while Peeta watches his mother for a moment.

“I don’t think she knows what to do with all this attention,” he says, nodding towards his mother, caught in a conversation with Haymitch, while I snag a few toasted bread chips smeared with goat cheese and drizzled with honey. One of Madge’s contributions to the feast.

“It’ll be good for her. Who knows, she might make a friend.”

He doesn’t look too convinced, and frankly neither am I as we catch part of her conversation with Haymitch.

“Now you remind of this girl I met once in Saigon--”

“Haymitch, no one wants to hear your wartime brothel stories,” Gale mutters.

“What does ‘brothel’ mean?”

“Nothing you need to worry about Violet. Oh look! Grandma Hazelle has stuff to make ornaments! Why don’t you make something pretty for the tree?”

I elbow Peeta again and he does a double take at the food I present him. “Should we wait?”

“This is an appetizer. And trust me. You wanna try them now before the twins decide they’re hungry,” I warn him. He chuckles and takes the food.

For awhile after that, everything seems fine. With Meaghan to help out, Karina slips right into the party. Peeta and I sneak appetizers, but so does everyone else. Conversations overlap and bounce across the room. Gale gets engrossed with Vick and Rory, all of them gesturing passionately as they probably talk about whatever Vick’s latest robotics project is. It’s always circuits and programs with Gale and Vick, Rory trying to keep up or tossing in medically related jargon.

The twins have their noses buried in a book, a surprisingly benign enterprise for them, but they always have something funny to say to Hazelle, Madge, and my mother when they pause to speak to them. Haymitch grumbles about the lack of whiskey in the eggnog, but he knows by now that Hazelle refuses to encourage his bad habits. Still, he drinks a gluhwein, after grumbling about there not being anything stronger, and sets his feet on the coffee table to start napping, telling Hazelle to inform him when the bird is ready. Surprisingly, Buttercup the cat curls up on his lap and Haymitch allows it.

Archer asks Felicity what she thinks of her red spiked hair, because it’s new, and Felicity is staring at it. Peeta’s mother stammers through a compliment, but after a glass or two of gluhwein and a half hour of chatting with Madge and Gale’s youngest -- Violet -- She seems to relax and actually asks Archer about her hair in a way that shows more interest than condescension. That leads to asking about the book they’re reading.

“Oh, not much. Just an instruction manual for making rocket fuel.” I hide a laugh behind my hand at Felicity’s wide-eyed look of astonishment. To my surprise, and Peeta’s relief, she tells the twins she doesn't know much about rockets and they take it upon themselves to educate her...with great enthusiasm.

“We’re still perfecting the designs for our liquid propelled rockets. So right now we’re working mainly with things like bottle rockets to practice launch procedures and trajectory,” they tell her.

Peeta and I somehow wind up with Violet, and Prim, making sparkly ornaments. Meaghan and Karina put themselves in charge of the music, which means that it alternates between the latest pop hits that Haymitch wakes up long enough to complain about before nodding back off again, Christmas songs on the piano, and … Elvis singles I can’t explain until Hazelle covers her face and groans that she never should have told Meaghan about her girlhood crush.

Hazelle and my mother periodically disappear into the kitchen to check on the buffet and the turkey in the oven. After about an hour or so, Hazelle announces that the bird is done and they’re just waiting for it to cool so they can carve it.

And that’s when the bomb hits.

“Everyone, I have something I need to say,” Rory announces, standing in the center of the living room. I’m expecting a toast, or other holiday themed sentimentality. What I am not expecting is for him to drop to one knee in front of my sister.

Prim freezes, eyes wide and face pale. Karina and Meaghan gasp excitedly and watch, rapt and with hearts in their eyes, still too young to see the warning the signs. Felicity looks a little astonished. Even Hazelle purses her lips and looks on in concern. Gale scowls and I am unable to move or do a damn thing to prevent the disaster about to rock the house. Peeta’s hand squeezes my shoulder. He sees it. He must.

When Rory is done with his impassioned proposal, Prim whispers to him, eyes darting around at all of our gathered family. “Can we talk about this in private?”

Rory frowns at her answer. For the first time since I can remember, sunny Rory actually looks like his older brother.

“But--” Rory starts. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Rosy. I thought -- the cat and -- the other night -- I just --” he stumbles and stutters over everything and Prim curls in on herself, looking more and more chagrined with every passing moment until Rory explodes on her. “What the hell, Primrose?!”

She shakes her head and mumbles an apology, rushing from the room. Rory stands and glares at me.

“Are all of you Everdeen women a bunch of teases?”

“Rory!” Hazelle shouts.

“Gale knows what I’m talking about,” Rory insists and Peeta stiffens beside me.

“Leave Catnip out of your mess,” Gale warns in a low voice.

“Catnip?” Madge asks and her brow furrows. My entire body heats with humiliation. I can feel my scalp burning. This is the worst place and time to drag any of this to the light.

Hazelle stomps across to her son, grabbing Rory by the ear and dragging him from the room, muttering to him as she goes. I’ve never seen Hazelle act like that.

I share a look with my mother and she quickly follows Prim. We’re left with awkward silence and Haymitch snoring. I wonder briefly if he’s faking it so that no one notices his attention to the happenings. The kids all look around, unsure what to do until Felicity stands and drops to her knees next to Violet.

“That’s a lovely ornament you have there. Is blue your favorite color?” For some reason, it’s the thing that breaks the tension. Within minutes, we have all the kids around the table. Vick helps fix hooks to their ornaments. Peeta assists with the glitter. I somehow wind up with glue supervision. Posy helps them find spots on the tree. At one point, Gale’s eyes meet mine and he mouths the word _Sorry_ to me. It’s more than I could usually expect from Gale and just give him a nod. The drama our siblings have caused has nothing to do with us. Not really. And it sounds like he owes more of an apology to Madge than to me.

When we’ve run out of ornament supplies, Felicity suggests the twins show us their rocket designs or maybe their bottle rocket collection. The group of us dresses warmly and heads out to the back yard where Archer and Hunter put on a display that’s probably illegal within city limits, but no one’s complaining two days before Christmas. The small explosions of bright colors bring us the rest of the way out of dampened spirits.

It seems that one crises has been averted when another one hits. In the quiet as we wait for the twins to mount their last rocket for launch, an ear piercing scream tears through the cold air. We all freeze and then the kids lead a charge back into the house.

“Your cat just ruined Christmas!” Rory shouts and we all stumble to a halt in the tiny entry to the kitchen. The massive turkey lays on the floor, shredded in places, a large splatter pattern shows where it hit the floor. A trail of grease indicates that someone, or rather some cat, tried dragging it across the floor.

“You scared him!” Prim cries, tears still streaming down her face.

“It’s fine!” Hazelle insists.

“No it’s not, Mom,” Rory says and Prim holds Buttercup close to her chest. “That thing is a menace! First Katniss’ apartment and now our turkey!”

“Don’t act like you care about Katniss’ apartment after what you said earlier!” Prim screeches.

“We can salvage most of it,” my mother says. Just then, Haymitch joins us, grabbing the turkey by the leg and hauling it aloft. Bits of meat, stuffing, and juices drip to the ground.

“At least we know it’s dead,” he says gruffly. Buttercup wails and Rory shouts incoherently before stomping from the house.

“Gale,” Hazelle says through her teeth and he nods.

“I’ll just go talk to my brother,” he says and Hazelle sighs before plastering a smile to her face. “I’m so sorry about all this Felicity, Peeta, Karina. I promise our holiday dinners aren’t usually this exciting.”

Felicity snorts and then covers her mouth. Peeta stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks directly at her. “You wanna tell them about the time Uncle Herbert carved the turkey with a chainsaw because he accidentally tripped on shrooms and thought it was still alive or should I?”

This time, Felicity’s laugh escapes, full bodied and surprisingly melodic. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her laugh like that before.

“Or how about the time your aunt Eustice brought her five dobermans and they used the Christmas tree to relieve themselves?” she asks around her laughter. She rubs Prim’s back as she walks across the kitchen and grabs a towel, handing it to Peeta who starts mopping up the mess off the floor. Prim leans into me and I hug both her and the devil cat as we watch the three matriarchs set to work, fixing up the turkey, discarding the ruined bits, and placing the parts that are still good on a platter.

“It’s a little cold,” Hazelle laments. “We left it to cool for too long.”

“We’ll just make sure the gravy is hot,” my mother says.

Felicity nods and stirs the gravy on the stove. “Looks untouched by any felines. No hair at least.”

Prim snorts and apologizes profusely through her tears. Then she whispers to me as we leave the bustle in the kitchen to keep an eye on the kids. “I talked to him, Katniss. Days ago. I thought he understood. He didn’t listen! He says he thought I meant for him to try harder or move faster, I don’t know. It’s all such a mess.”

“It’ll be okay, Prim,” I reassure her, although I have no way of knowing if it will.

Dinner goes surprisingly well, all things considered. Prim puts Buttercup in his carrier to keep him away from the banquet. Madge fixes two plates and wraps them in foil to be warmed up later for Gale and Rory. Between Karina, Meaghan, and the twins, there is plenty of laughter and joy, along with a sense that one year, we might be retelling the story of this dinner around a table with tears of laughter in our eyes.

At the end of it, Gale has returned, face stony and lips pursed as he shakes his head at the questioning look from his mother. But then he squeezes Prim’s shoulder and whispers something to her that makes her relax as he takes his seat next to Madge and digs into his food.

Rory doesn’t come back.

“We still have one more rocket to launch, don’t we?” Felicity asks Archer after dessert has been consumed and the last of the dishes washed.

“Yeah!” Hunter shouts, grabbing his twin sister by the arm and dragging her out back.

It takes the rest of us a moment to catch up, and just as we head out the door, Archer screams a warning at us. A flash of light streaks across the yard, veering wildly and just missing Prim. A feline screech rends the air as Buttercup leaps out of her arms. Orange fur flies as the cat bolts. A crash, a dull thud. A pop and quick sparkle over the neighbors’ house. Then silence.

“Buttercup!” Prim cries, chasing after her cat.

“Oops,” Hunter says.

“Finally, some Karma for the damn cat,” Haymitch says, and Hunter loses it, rolling in the snow laughing. Eventually, Pim returns with a very agitated Buttercup.

The party winds down from there. Hugs and wishes for happy holidays exchanged for those of us who won’t be seeing each other in the next few days. Peeta fills the quiet in the car with music as we take his mother home. She thanks me for a wonderful night before Peeta helps her from the car and up the walk to her house.

“No really, what’s a brothel?” Karina asks and I can’t help it. I snort.

“Ask your Dad,” I tell her.

“Ask me what?” he says as he climbs back into his seat.

“Nothing,” Karina says and I make a note to tell her later so she doesn’t go on an internet search and discover more than she bargained for.

There’s a strange sense of peace in the house as we finish cleaning up from all our cooking today, prepare for bed. It feels almost domestic, I realize as I watch Peeta toss aside extra pillows and fluff the blankets up before he slides beneath them and I join him. I curl into his side and he wraps his arms around me. A content sigh escapes me as my mind wanders back over the day. Despite its rocky start and the potential for disaster to strike again, I’m not that worried about it. And as we lay there with Peeta’s hand skimming soothing lines up and down my arm, I realize that it’s him. I’m not worried about facing future disasters as long as Peeta and I have each other, and Karina.

“So...Catnip?” he asks and I wrinkle my nose. He chuckles at my expression then adopts a seductive tone of voice. “Me-ow.”

“Oh no,” I say and pinch his side. Peeta laughs and rolls us so that I’m pinned beneath him, his lips nuzzling my neck. He’s practically purring and I can’t help laughing through my protests. Eventually, he lifts his head, grinning down at me as I rest my hand on his cheek. He turns his head to kiss my palm and I prepare my retaliation for his use of that nickname.

“So are you gonna tell me about Uncle Herbert and the shrooms?” I ask. Peeta rolls onto his back with a good-natured smile on his face.

“Ah yes, Uncle Herbert and the Shrooms. Makes a catchy band name, don’t you think?”

We talk until late into the night, swapping stories of family and holiday disasters until I can’t breathe and my sides and face hurt from laughing. And through it all, I know… we’ll be just fine.


	25. December 24th - You've Never Seen Me Yet

A light dusting of snow is already falling by the time Karina and I make it downstairs and start breakfast. Peeta left for the bakery hours ago, but since it’s only open half a day today, he’ll be home by early afternoon. Karina is quiet this morning, and I wonder if the insanity of dinner last night has gotten to her. Eventually, she asks a question, and once she does, I realize that I’ve been waiting for her to ask it.

“Why didn’t your sister say ‘yes?’” I pause to lick some yogurt off my fingers, really I’m stalling for time to get my words right. But then I think about Glimmer and everything that Karina’s seen and dealt with in her twelve years and suddenly, it’s not so hard to explain at all.

“They’ve been disagreeing about a lot of things lately. Prim isn’t sure that she and Rory want the same things out of life.”

“Oh,” Karina says and thinks for a moment, her foot kicking against the leg of the chair. “Like... kids?”

“Sort of. That’s one thing,” I say. “Rory wants to have kids now. Prim wants to wait a little longer.”

Karina tilts her head, considering this for a moment and my lips curve up a little. Finally she nods, coming to a conclusion that she doesn’t hesitate to pronounce. “Then they should wait. Otherwise,” she waves her hand around and I reach across the table to clasp it in mine and squeeze.

“Yeah,” I say. “Otherwise someone winds up hurt.”

We eat our yogurt, granola, and fruit bowls in quiet for a moment before Karina finds another question to ask.

“What’s your sister doing today? Maybe she needs a distraction.”

“A distraction?” I ask.

“Yeah. When I’m upset, Dad or Meaghan always find something fun for us to do. To distract me,” she says. Now I’m the one tilting my head in consideration. It’s been so long since Prim and I have distracted one another, and I’m not even sure that she’s not working at the hospital today.

“I could call her and ask,” I tell Karina. She smiles and bounces up from the table to get started on the dishes.

And that’s how I wind up in the food bank an hour later for our usual shift, showing both Prim and Meaghan the ropes. We’re busy and can use the extra hands anyways, and after half an hour of watching Prim smile and chat with people, I know Karina’s idea was a brilliant one.

Plus we brought all those cookies from our baking frenzy with us and hand out a box to each food bank customer so they don’t go to waste.

In the brief respites we get from work, Meaghan and Karina lead the girl talk charge, distracting Prim from her problems. Even still, she’s so good with them, her smile bright and her answers for them candid. She looks a hundred times better than she did last night, although I can still see the edge of sadness lingering in her eyes. Despite everything that has happened between us, I still ache for the hurt my little sister feels. I wish I could make it go away.

We don’t linger after the food bank closes, since it’s the day before Christmas and no one wants to stay apart from their loved ones too long today. And as we walk back towards the cars, Meaghan and Karina talk some more. It never fails to amaze me, the inexhaustible supply of conversation and enthusiasm for life these two girls have. I hope that never dims.

“So what are your plans for tonight?” I ask Prim, nudging my shoulder into her.

“I’ve got a friend from work. Her roommate just left on a humanitarian aid mission, so she’s got some extra space she offered to me for a few days.”

“Rory’s still mad,” I say and Prim nods.

“I think this might be the end for us. I don’t know how to fix it,” she says solemnly. Then, she smiles up at me. “But things seem to be going well with you and Peeta.”

“They have been,” I say and fiddle with my car keys in my pocket.

“You’ve practically moved in with him. The girls wouldn’t stop whispering about how Karina caught you two kissing yesterday. The culmination of all their plotting? What does that mean? Or am I revealing adolescent secrets that I shouldn’t?”

“Oh no,” I say with a shrug. “I already knew about their scheming.”

“Oh come on, Katniss. Please tell me something good,” Prim says, and while her voice is teasing there’s something almost desperate in her eyes.

And then I think about what Peeta and I would look like on the outside, to someone like Prim. He’s divorced. A single-dad. His ex-wife cheated on him. I’ve never had a decent stable relationship until this one. I glance up at Karina and smile as she laughs at something Meaghan says.

But we’re still building a family. Living on hope that a handful of mistakes, some of them egregious and with the potential to destroy, don’t mean that you’ve run out of chances for love or happiness.

“They were playing cupid earlier this month,” I say, nodding towards the girls. “Karina and Meaghan. And things are...good. More than good, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Hmm,” Prim hums, clearly dissatisfied with my lack of details. “Well Mom wants to know if she’s getting a teenaged step-granddaughter anytime soon.”

“We haven’t...talked that far,” I admit. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it on some cursory level. I watch Karina and Meaghan as they come to a halt next to my truck. “We’re working on me moving in with them for now.”

“So...do I get to find out if he’s a good kisser?” Prim asks, ducking her head close to mine.

“Oh my god, no,” I say, not wanting to share that with my baby sister, but something in my face must reveal the truth because she lets out a muted squeal worthy of Karina and Meaghan. I try to protest and Prim cuts me off.

“I’m just happy for you, Katniss. All three of you.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I say and Prim sighs.

“Now if only I could figure out if what Rory and I have could grow into something like what you and Peeta have.”

I don’t know what to say to that, and it doesn’t matter. We’ve reached the cars and I unlock my truck to allow the girls to climb in out of the cold. Prim catches me into a hug and thanks me for the distraction. Then she whispers in my ear, something that brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

“For what it’s worth,” Prim says, “I already know that you are an amazing step-mom. Karina would be lucky to have you, too.”

Prim’s words stay with me all through the drive to drop Meaghan at her house. All through a hasty conversation with Madge as her kids run amok in the snow in her yard and Karina stalls saying farewell to her best friend for the next day or more. All through the drive home.

Home.

When did I start thinking of Peeta’s place as my home?

And I think about it as Karina hugs Peeta in greeting and tells him all about our day, as we prepare and then eat dinner together, I can’t stop thinking about it. Stepmom. Home. The words should frighten me, but they don’t. Not in the least.

Not even when Karina pulls us into the living room and has us sit on the couch before she hands us each a wrapped package.

“What are these for, Kare-Bear?” Peeta asks as I finger the ribbon and the tag.

“It’s something I made at Gramma’s the other night. But then I didn’t get a chance to give them to you because...because…” Because of Glimmer. Peeta squeezes her hand and smiles, letting her know that we understand and she doesn’t have to say it if she doesn’t want to. “Open them?”

I look to Peeta, to make sure this is okay, because I don’t have anything for Karina to open right now. This feels like something she’s specially planned to be opened before Christmas. Peeta agrees and loosens the ribbon on his. Once the wrappings are discarded, we lift the lids off the boxes at the same time. I stare down at silhouettes of reindeer in sable browns and shimmering golds, painted in soft shades onto opalescent silk.

“Stockings?” Peeta asks and I lift my head to look at the one he’s holding aloft. Painted with pine trees festooned with shimmering silver garlands, and red ornaments. I lift the silk from the box and find the red velvet backing. It unfurls into a stocking as I lift.

“Well, Katniss’ got destroyed in the fire. And I thought it would be nice if we all had matching ones,” Karina says uncertainty. “I’ve got one, too.”

And it hits me then what this gift means. What Karina is saying with it.

“Oh, Karina,” I whisper and drop the stocking to pull her to me. She’s barely settled in my embrace when I feel Peeta’s arms encircle us both. We sit there for a long time, until I shift my head to press a soft kiss to first his temple. And then hers.

“So you like it?” she whispers and I laugh, the sound watery and emotional even to my ears and as Karina pulls away from me, I reach out and brush aside her tears.

“I love it, Karina. They’re beautiful. Can we see yours?”

She smiles, and it feels like the sun has finally burned through the clouds of winter and graced me with the warmth of spring for just a moment as she spins to retrieve her stocking. We spend a moment admiring hers, a plump red cardinal perched on a branch of an evergreen tree.

“We should hang these up,” Peeta says. It takes us a few moments to find a third hook to use for mine, and Karina mentions in passing that she already put away their old stockings. He doesn’t seem at all upset about that, and once the three new socks hang above the TV, Peeta finds a channel playing a fireplace image along with soft Christmas carols. Karina extinguishes the lights except for the tree and the three of us curl up together on the couch.

It’s only when Karina starts to nod off, after we’ve sat and talked, quietly watching the snow and sipping spiced cider that I realize...we sat exactly like this that first night in December. When Karina was using Hallmark movies to inspire romance. And look where we are now.

“I’ll just put her to bed,” Peeta murmurs after Karina snores softly once. She grumbles when he tries to move her, but wakes enough to walk up the stairs in front of him. I fix us another round of cider and a few minutes later, Peeta flips off the TV and rejoins me on the couch with a sigh. But it sounds like a happy sigh.

“She didn’t push too far, did she?” he asks and I shake my head.

“No, not at all,” I say. I’m reminded of what Prim said and suck in a deep breath before forcing the words out. “Peeta...do you think she’d be okay with me as her stepmom?”

He stares at me over his cider mug for a second before slowly setting it aside. He turns to face me, hands tugging my hips until I’ve rotated to face him head on. I shift to sit on my knees and wait, hoping that I haven’t overstepped.

“I’m gonna be a little annoyed if you just robbed me of the chance to propose in front of your entire extended family.” His lips twitch in a suppressed smile as he cups my cheeks in his hands, slowly drawing my lips towards his.

“Don’t you dare,” I mutter, although there’s no bite behind it.

“I wouldn’t,” he promises. “I know you’d hate that. And that’s assuming I’d ever be invited to your family’s Christmas dinner again.”

“If I’m stuck with spider murder duties, you’re on the hook for crazy Everdeen- Hawthorne- Mellark holiday disasters for the rest of your life.” His lips part in a devastating smile. It makes my insides quiver with recognition. Wherever this conversation is going, I know it ends with my sopping panties on a floor. Hanging from a ceiling fan. Anywhere except on my body.

“So then how would you propose if not in front of my whole family?” I ask out of curiosity and he shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You’re just gonna have to stick around to find out,” he teases and I am almost ashamed to admit how fast I melt at the words, headlong into his kisses, clinging to his shoulders as the lights from the tree blur together right before I close my eyes. Peeta’s hands skim down my shoulders and arms to my hips. He tugs me closer, until my knees dig into his thighs, until it will become awkward if I don’t climb into his lap. So that’s what I do.

He caresses over my backside as our breaths grow ragged against cheeks and his soft moan spurs me onwards. It isn’t long before we’re full fledged dry humping on the couch. His lips trail over my chin, down my neck as I tilt my head back and then to the side to open the way for him.

“The only real mystery is what you’d say,” he whispers to my neck.

“I love you too much to say anything other than ‘yes,’” I murmur, although the last word is a desperate moan as his mouth sucks on a patch of skin low on my neck and I buck my hips over him.

Peeta freezes for a second. Just long enough to bring me out of the haze of desire. “Peeta?”

“Did you just say… you love me?” he asks and I lift my head to hold his cheeks in my palms. I rest my forehead on his and breath in his scent. It calms me, although my heart still races when I answer him.

“I thought you knew that. It’s not like I could keep it a secret.” He stares up at me and doesn’t say a word. So I find the words to keep going. “I love you. I love you and your spider phobia and your overly organized kitchen and your inexhaustible well of patience and kindness.” Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. “I love the face you make when you‘re drawing and your lectures you give yourself if you think you’ve messed up. I love the way you make me laugh and your ridiculous lashes that should tangle when you blink and I love your lips. The way you kiss me, hold me, love me. I love that you’re my best friend and I adore your daughter. I want her to be mine too. And if you want to spend every possible minute of the rest of our lives together, I’ll love every possible minute too.”

I can’t wait to see what he’ll say, too afraid that I’ve really overstepped now, so I press my mouth to his. But his answer is in his kiss. It’s in the way he parts his lips and holds me close. It’s in the way he whispers my name when our mouths separate just for a moment to breathe, as though saying my name is more important to him than air. It’s in the soft brush of his thumb over my cheek and the strength I feel in his arms as he stands and carries me up the stairs. It’s in the gentle way he lays me on the bed and peels away my clothes. It’s in the dark blue of his eyes that never look away from me as he strips off his own clothes. It’s in the blanket of kisses he covers me with and the secrets he whispers into my skin. The hopes he kisses into my very heart.

And as he lays on the bed, it’s in the way he smiles up at me as I straddle him. My soft moan as I slide him inside me and rock my hips over him until rocking isn’t enough. It’s in the clench of his fingers on my hips and the ripple of his arm muscles as I ride him harder and he drives me. It’s in my pleas to slow down so I can draw this out longer, and the way he caresses my torso and legs in answer, handing the pace back to me.

Then it’s in our soft promises as he scoots us further up the bed and props himself up on pillows and the headboard. The soft drag of the backs of his fingers up and down the length of my body as I keep moving, keep loving him. It’s in the look on his face and the creaking of the bed beneath us. It’s in my plea for him to come closer, to feel his skin pressed to mine and it’s in the arc of his body as he gives me exactly what I need, the feel of his arms encircling me, loving and protecting me. His chest caressing and then molding to mine.

It’s in every breath and word rasped against pebbled skin that’s somehow hot to the touch as we shift and rock. It’s in the scrape of my nails on his scalp and the obscenities I moan to the ceiling as he buries his face in my chest and our hips collide and dance and repeat it all over, faster then slower then faster again until we’re incoherent with need. It’s in the scratches I burn into his skin and the bruises he brands into mine. The way we kiss and touch and gaze at one another, speaking of love and always with our bodies and eyes. And finally, it’s in the way my whole body shudders and pulses with the rhythm of release that begins in my core and consumes me. It’s in his name as I shout it.

And even after I’ve finished and feel blessedly drained, I keep moving. Bodies and tongues sliding together, hands caressed over hips, shoulders, backs, faces. Through hair. I relax my hold on him and sigh into the kisses as they keep coming. Murmuring to him to finish and gasping when my back hits the cool sheets and my useless arms fly over my head.

Then it’s in the bite of teeth into my lip as I contain my screams and turn them into whining moans. The pain in my fingers as I grip the pillows for something to ground me. The pounding of his body into mine that matches the pounding of my heart. It's in the desperate contortion of his face and the way he falls into me, groaning as his cock pulses with each clench of my walls around him. In the astonished way we stare at one another until he collapses and then it’s in his weight pressing into me, keeping me from shattering.

It’s in velvet kisses and the lifting of his weight, the shift of bodies until he’s spooning me. And it is most assuredly in the thundering of his heart against my back and the tight way he curls our bodies together so that we might as well still be one.

And just before I drift off to sleep, it’s in our whispered words, so simple and contrary to the recent passion these sheets saw, and it’s in the smiles they cause.

“Katniss?”

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I love you, too.”


	26. December 25th - Wrapped In Red

It’s sitting on the kitchen table. Right where it was left in the midst of today’s frenzy. A purple sparkly notebook that Karina placed between Peeta and I around dinner time, whispering that we could look inside, if we wanted to. We never managed the time to look. Besides, I’m a little terrified of what I’ll find. 

But now, the world finally lays still and silent. Peeta and Karina both sleep soundly upstairs, but even though I should be exhausted from the previous late night and the long day, I could not sleep yet. Driven by a need for some quiet time with just myself and my thoughts, I slipped from beneath the warm sheets of our bed and snuck downstairs. Made myself a mug of chamomile tea to help quiet my mind.

I grip my tea and stare at it. Pages of pre-teen schemes and romantic dreams sandwiched between two glittering covers.

Blowing across my tea, I lower myself into a chair and think instead about the past twenty-four hours. Late in the night yesterday, Peeta woke in a near panic. Remembering that we’d left the tree lights on and the stockings unfilled. We threw on pajamas and snuck back downstairs, sitting back to back as we filled the stockings with small gifts. I only had the one, Peeta’s, grateful that Karina and I had conspired here and there enough to fill his. I didn’t expect anything in mine, but when we finally set them back on their hooks, I noticed that mine held at least a few items. Of course, Peeta would think to make sure I had something small to place in a stocking, and I can’t help but wonder if he replaced my burned one too only to have Karina beat him to it with her gift yesterday.

What we put in the stockings isn’t as important as the way it felt filling them, staying up late with him and putting the last finishing touches on making the morning special and exciting for Karina. Or the sentiment behind Karina’s gift and Peeta’s thoughtfulness. How it felt when we tiptoed back through the darkness to our bed and curled up in each other’s arms to finally get at least and handful of hours of peaceful sleep.

That’s how Karina found us early this morning. Wrapped around each other, warm and sleeping. I only know this because of the way she sang so cheerfully when we made it downstairs to find her slicing up a fruit salad to go with the morning buns she had in the oven. The sly look she gave us right before she suggested I just clear my things out of the guest room in case Gramma Felicity stayed too late today and needed a place to sleep. Since I wasn’t sleeping in the guest room anyways.

I set the mug down and pull the notebook in front of me. The rest of today was the usual whirlwind of holidays. Family stopping by to exchange gifts, phone calls from distant family members, and a belly filled with warm food. 

Perhaps I should wait to read this until Peeta’s with me, but my fear that I might react in a way that worries him or hurts him wins out and I flip open the cover. Just so that I am prepared and not caught off guard.

**_PROJECT TURTLE DOVES_ **

_ Why turtle doves? _

I recognize Karina’s broader, almost bubble-shaped handwriting, but not the narrow, slanted cursive until Karina herself reveals it.

**_Because I need to call it something, Meaghan!_ **

_ I thought I was Consultant M? _

**_Can we just get to it? Thank you._ **

I stifle a laugh as I realize they must have worked on some of this in class, where they needed to write their communications rather than talk.

**_Stage 1: Assess the likelihood of success_ **

**_Subject A: Male, 32 years old, single, blond hair, blue eyes...do you think it’d be weird to ask my dad how much he weighs?_ **

_ Who cares! Unimportant! He can do the lifting thing we talked about and that’s all that matters. Get to the good stuff! _

**_Fine. Unknown weight. Able to sweep a lady off her feet literally are you happy Meaghan????_ **

_ I am. Continue. _

**_Subject B: Female, 32 years old???, single, black hair, gray eyes_ **

_ \--Kickass skills with a bow-- another reason why weight is unimportant. She might shoot us if you ask. _

**_Good point._ **

**_Compatibility:_ **

**_Subject A and B are already good friends and spend a lot of time together. Subject A enjoys cooking. Subject B enjoys eating. Subject A and B often say things that make the other laugh even though I don’t get about half of them._ **

_ Yawn. Can we proceed to the important part? _

**_This is important_ **

Karina goes on to list a few more things that she thinks might make Peeta and I compatible, but shortly gets to what Meaghan deemed “the good stuff”

**_TEST 1: Determine if subject A and subject B could develop romantic feelings for each other._ **

_...If they aren’t already madly in love… _

**_One step at a time, Consultant M!_ **

What follows is a diary of clues Karina and Meaghan collected over a period of about three months. Dated and time stamped, making me nearly choke on my tea. Everything from a brush of his lips over my temple, to a scathing comment that passed my lips towards a flirtatious waitress, to what the girls interpreted as both longing and loving looks Peeta gave me. His hand lingering on my back. Hugs, laughter that made us lean into one another. I am both astonished and mortified by how much they saw. How much they noticed. 

**_TEST 1 Conclusion:_ **

**_Subject A: Clearly in love with Subject B :-)_ **

As conclusive evidence, Karina has written out a transcript of a conversation she had with Peeta about the different kinds of love. Love for a friend, for family. They even delved into romantic love, and Karina astutely observes in her margins that what Peeta describes sounds exactly like how he acts around me. 

_ I concur. (I just learned that word today!) Sounds like my Mom and Dad, too. _

Meaghan’s agreement is followed by a long string of capital letter E’s and a handful of exclamation points in Karina’s handwriting. 

And then the kicker.

**_Subject B: Feelings inconclusive_ **

_ I still say it’s because you haven’t lived with her. Remember what my Mom said the other day? When she thought we weren’t listening? _

I can’t help but wonder what Madge said in front of the girls, but whatever it was seems to have given Karina hope. There’s at least ten pages dedicated to the very important question:

**_Would Subject B ever want to be a mother?_ **

The small observations and questions, the hopes and conclusions Karina finally draws here nearly bring tears to my eyes.

**_She’s already my Mom. I just hope she wants to be._ **

After that, it’s a little chaotic and disorganized until Karina gets to her apparently brilliant idea.

**TEST 6!!! SET THE MOOD!!!**

Here is her plot to inundate Peeta with hints about love and romance, starting with Hallmark Channel Christmas movies, in an attempt to foster what the girls refer to as his “unnourished romantic side.” Next come several pages of scrawled ideas. Ways to throw Peeta and I together. With each new one, Karina wavers and gets scared. Meaghan draws doodles in the margins and scrawls encouraging notes. There’s a picture of Peeta and I on that 5 kilometer hike I dragged him and Karina on back in November tucked in between two pages. A simple  _ Eep!  _ From Meaghan on the corner of it as I realize how close, how happy we look together in the picture. Another of the three of us during summer with ice cream cones in our hands and ridiculous looks on our faces. 

_ Just think! This could be your family one day! _

**_I hope so._ **

One of the best parts of reading this is learning about Meaghan and Karina’s quest for knowledge. Peppered throughout the pages are interviews with adults they admire about love and romance. Small conversations in the margins with each other as they begin to grow into beings that might seek love and romance themselves one day, although they both agree that they can wait. They’ve seen enough adults hurt by it to know that love isn’t something to take lightly.

Tentative expressions of hope and what she sees as imminent success leading into questions asked of and suggestions made by  **_Consultant G_ ** , who I can only assume is Felicity, based on the next page. Peeta’s dating profiles. Only these are different than I remember. Not the profiles themselves, but the notes in the margins. There’s a lot more than what I remember discussing with Karina, and it has nothing to do with Peeta, everything to do with me and how I responded. Confused, I flip back a page and stare at an underlined phrase I barely noticed a few seconds ago.

**_Persuade Subject B to view Subject A as potential romantic partner and open her eyes to the possibility of losing him_ **

“So that’s what you were doing with those profiles,” I mutter and take a sip of tea, shaking my head at just how devious Felicity is. But then something else occurs to me. If she helped Karina come up with this idea, then I already have Felicity’s stamp of approval. I set my mug aside and  wrap my arms around my waist, thinking of every purse of her lips or odd sound in her throat that Felicity made whenever Glimmer’s name was mentioned. Before that even, when Peeta and Glimmer were still married. A barely concealed animosity constantly under the surface.

Not that Felicity’s disapproval would break what Peeta and I have, but it’s nice to know she’s already behind us and Karina.

I turn back through the pages and can’t help but smile at Karina’s combined exasperation and hope with us. Her certainty that it’s only a matter of time and patience. Her claims of undeniable proof. Me staying to take care of Peeta when he was sick. The crash and her despair when Peeta agreed to the date that never happened with Penelope. Then the rebound of hope when Peeta rushed to help me and bring me to stay here after the fire.

I skim through the last of it, so much of it still fresh in memory, but when I reach the end, I feel as though I’ve gained a new understanding of this emerging family and each of its members. 

**_Love means protecting and taking care of the person you care about. Always. Even if you’re afraid to._ **

I read and reread Karina’s final conclusion. Alone in the dark, I close my eyes and imagine my fears as bands around my heart. One by one, I snip them free and let them fall away, discarded on the floor. Then with a determination as deep as Karina’s, I open my laptop and type a phrase I once thought I’d never enter into the search bar.

_ How to adopt your stepchild _

As the results load, I search the kitchen cabinet where I know Peeta keeps extra school supplies for Karina. She’s already got a sparkly red notebook that she took to her sleepover along with the purple one. And if purple is Operation Turtle Doves, I imagine that red is Operation Wedding Bells. That’s fine. Maybe it won’t happen on her timeline, or in the manner she expects, but I know it will happen eventually. In the meantime, I sit at the kitchen table with a fresh mug of tea and start laying down the research for Operation Blend. Maybe it isn’t the best code name. But it’s mine. And I’m in this for the long game, not the short.

When my eyes start to itch and my head is swimming with all the information, I know that I need a break. My legs are freezing, and I pad into the laundry room where my red socks have been hanging up to dry. The whole room is warm, a result of the laundry Peeta did throughout the day, and I sigh as the socks start working to warm my legs.

Instead of shutting down my laptop, I grin with a wicked idea. I don’t expect Prim to answer since I saw her earlier today and she’s on a shift tonight, but I text her anyways.

_ Hey. Odd question. Where did you get those red socks you gave me on the sixth? _

I’ve rinsed my mug and set it in the sink when my phone vibrates with her response.

**_This is kind of embarrassing. I have no idea. They were actually a white elephant gift from one of the interns here at the clinic._ **

I resign myself to another embarrassing Google search to find something similar when Prim sends another text.

**_She’s actually here tonight and says they were a freebie from something or other, but she remembers the brand name! Red Yarn Darling. Why?_ **

I don’t answer, choosing instead to look the brand up, pleased to find that they not only have a website I can order from, but they’re having a two for the price of one sale. And have socks in every color of the rainbow.

“Oh my,” I say as I stare at a pair of black ones with hot pink ribbons up the back in imitation of a corset. I’m not sure I can pull that off so I keep looking. All the while, I ignore the barrage of texts from my sister.

**_Are you shopping for more of them?_ **

**_Oh my god. You are!_ **

**_You wore them for Peeta didn’t you?_ **

**_LMFAO! What did he do? Did he like them?_ **

**_You have to tell me!!!! I’m living vicariously through you right now!!!_ **

I roll my eyes and add a pair of orange ones to my cart, Peeta’s favorite color. Then I debate between the forest green and a soft pink pair.

**_KATNISS!!!!_ **

_ Yes! Fine! He liked them! _

**_How much?_ **

_ Enough that I’m buying two more pairs. Don’t you have patients to see to? _

**_It’s slow here right now. Give me details._ **

_ Ew, that’s too weird. _

**_You should get one in every color for every special occasion._ **

I settle on the pink, because Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and even though it’s cliche to give into that corny holiday, Cinna has told me repeatedly that this shade of pink complements my skin tone.

_ I’m going to bed, Prim. Get back to work. _

**_Party pooper._ **

I shake my head and complete my purchase. By the time I make it back upstairs, the socks and my embarrassment over my conversation with Prim have my entire body heated through. Then I slide beneath the sheets and Peeta rolls over, automatically curling his arm around me and pulling me close, pressing his nose into my hair and breathing deep.

And still, sleep eludes me.

I trace lazy patterns on his abs and chest, halfway wishing he would wake up and join me in sleepless hours together. I leave a trail of soft kisses over his throat and freeze when my nails accidentally scrape over his nipple and he jumps in his sleep.

“Katniss?” he asks in the dark and I hush him, feeling guilty for waking him. “Where were you?”

“Downstairs,” I tell him. “Just thinking a little.”

“K,” he says and kisses the top of my head. “You can tell me if we’re too much and you need some time to yourself. We’ll understand.”

I bite my lip and flatten my palm over his heart, absorbing the steady thumps into my body and hoping that they’ll help me deal with this overwhelming feeling inside me. How does he know? How does he always seem to know what I need?

I let my hand slide down his chest, beneath the waist of his pants. My fingers trail along the narrow path of dark blond hair, curl in the small thatch of coarse hair at the bottom of the trail. Peeta gasps softly and drops his hand to cover mine. We hesitate for a moment and I can hear his labored breaths, matching mine as we seem to be waiting for the other to make the next move.

“We never got to finish that dream of yours,” he whispers and then I’m on my back with Peeta stretched out over me, his lips hot on my skin, determined to turn me on. I don’t tell him that I’m already there. Instead, I let him kiss me. I let him kiss me as I whisper his name and a hundred other wishes into the night. I let him kiss me and claw at his shirt until he pauses long enough for us to get it off of him. Mine follows and his hands caress slowly down my writhing body until they meet the tops of my stockings and he freezes.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he groans. His lips follow his hands and I arch beneath the touches, whimpering as he finds all the places he now knows drive me wild with need. Both of us pushing and pulling until my panties are gone too.

“Peeta, can I? Can you?” I can’t get the question out, but it turns out that I don’t need to. Peeta rolls onto his back, lifting me over him and cursing as I spread my knees, settling with my lips just above his mouth.

Then he surprises me again, taking his time kissing every inch of skin he has access to. Teasing my folds with his tongue then leaving me wanting to kiss elsewhere until I’m desperate and begging for his tongue inside me.

“You’re on top of me,” he reminds me with a grin. I make a noise of protest deep in my throat as I realize what he’s suggesting. What he’s allowing me to do.

I grip his hair with both hands and shove myself onto his mouth. Peeta’s moan vibrates through my core to my heart as I throw my head back and thrust my hips over him. He sucks my clit and I tug on his hair. His hands caress and grab in turns. His tongue slides through me, up inside me and drawing the coil in my gut tighter with each swirl of wet flesh to wet flesh. Each drawn out moan and deep breath through his nose as we work together to bring me closer. On and on, and I keep waiting for him to decide that’s enough. To throw me on the bed and fuck me hoarse and senseless. But he doesn’t.

My thighs start shaking with the effort of holding myself together. “Peeta, I can’t.”

He shifts his legs, bending his knees up with feet braced on the mattress, pushing me back until I’m reclined on his thighs and knees. And then he doesn’t relent. I pant soft  _ Ah’s  _ to the night, hands gripping his arms beneath me and hips jerking wildly, both of us seeking that last thing that will send me toppling over. His hands curve around my thighs, pushing down on my hips, fingers searching through my curls for my clit.

And it’s all of it combined. His fingers on me, tongue inside me, his moans filling me and his very heart loving me, that sends me careening through a release so intense I can’t control a thing about it. Not my hoarse shout or the way I freeze above him. Not the clenching of my walls or the release that doesn’t seem to stop.

I’ve just remembered how to breathe when Peeta shifts us so that I’m on my back, my thighs draped over his.

“I fucking love these socks. God, you look so sexy in them. Every time you wear them, I’m gonna be rock fucking hard for you, Katniss.” I vaguely hear the foil of the condom and then his soft moan as he slides inside me. “Fuck! You’re still coming.”

He sits there, rotating his hips with our bodies joined as my walls flutter over his cock and I skim my hands up and down his thighs, feeling the heat of him inside me, pushing against me. It feels good. So good. When the last of the tremors fade, I manage to look up at him. I can barely make out his eyes in the little light from outside that sneaks in through the curtains. But I know I want that look reserved just for me. Always.

“Peeta,” I whisper, sounding needy and I don’t care if I sound weak, because I know that we’re not. “I want it hard. Give me everything you’ve got.”

I am rewarded with just a flash of white teeth and the brief thought that maybe I’m not ready for everything he’s got as he shifts his hands to grip beneath my thighs and then thinking becomes impossible as he moves my hips over him and thrusts at the same time. 

“Tell me about your dreams. The dirty ones about me,” he says. “Tell me, Katniss, so I can bring them all to life for you.”

I can’t answer for a long time. Muted by the feelings he’s rebuilding in me already. I watch a bead of sweat form on his forehead and trail down his temple. The roll and ripple of muscles beneath his skin. And oh god, the sight of the hair I can feel grinding on my clit appear and disappear between my legs. The combination of senses making it nearly unbearable. I lick my parched lips and summon words. They’re jumbled and make no sense to me, but Peeta keeps going, encourages me to tell him more.

My eyes roll back in my head and I try to clench against the feelings that soar through me, fill me, consume me and turn me into something entirely new. I beg for less and then yell when he backs off, realize that the hollow feeling of stopping now is far worse than the terror of what we’re building towards. My hands wrench the sheets loose off the bed, scatter the pillows, draw raised lines on his skin.

I fly apart with no warning and drench him and the sheets as I hear him groan my name. Feel his fingers burrowing in my thighs, the muscles taut in release and the pain only adding to my pleasure. My entire body jolts with his last few rough thrusts. The headboard smacks the wall thrice and then he falls still.

Heat blankets me as Peeta lays over me, his hips still moving, more gently this time. His hands caress my face and hair as he murmurs words of love. I can’t stop touching him. Our lips meet in kisses that only feed the need and soon, I’m lifting back up towards another peak. I don’t even try to stop this one, back bending to bring us both closer, my neck exposed to his kisses and his promises, his reverent touches.

When it’s over and we stop moving, my walls continue to flutter on his cock, the faint remnants of release. It’s only after they’ve faded and he’s started to soften, as we’re lying there in each other’s arms, that I think maybe I should tell him about my project. But his fingers toying with the tops of my socks and the small phrases of contentment he puffs over my ear distract me. 

I can barely breathe with all of his weight collapsed on top of me. I make a noise as I try to move, and Peeta understands, rolling onto his back but keeping me in his arms so that I sprawl on his chest, my ear resting right on the spot where I know I can hear his heart. Steady and strong. If a little frantic right now.

“So what prompted this?” he asks as his fingers draw shivers from my spine and turn me boneless with happiness.

“Oh, just a test to see if these things still have the same effect. Completely scientific, of course,” I mumble and Peeta laughs, breathless and sexy in the night.

“I think it’s safe to say that they do,” he murmurs and holds me closer. We’ll need to get up and put on some clothes before we fall back asleep, but I’m not ready to move yet either. “Do they come in any other colors?”

I grin, pressing a kiss into his chest to hide it and tell a little white lie. Can’t ruin my surprises just yet. What would the fun be in that?


	27. December 31st... Five Years Later - December Comes and Goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter of my month long project that took me almost three months to finish. It kind of got away from me as the characters grew beyond what I imagined for them when I started this. I hope you have all enjoyed his journey with Katniss, Peeta, and especially Karina as much as I have loved writing it. There’s always going to be a very special spot in my heart for our Kiss Demanding Despot Ninja. Sigh. Also, I cannot close this out without thanking savvyLark who sent me the prompt that led to the stupidly long drabble that caused a chain reaction of ideas and resulted in this story. She also, quite fittingly, provided the names for Toastbabies! So basically, you started and ended this story. ;-) <3 KDNFB

**_December 31 st … Five Years Later – December Comes and Goes_ **

“Are you ready for them?” Peeta whispers as we listen to footsteps and giggles approaching in the hallway. I groan, wiggling to get closer to him even though I know it’s impossible, at least physically.

“Why are they up so early today?”

“They’re not. We slept in.” Makes sense, given how our night went, and yet I can’t quite bring myself to feel guilty about it.

“I’m not wearing panties,” I mutter and Peeta snorts, tugging the comforter and sheets up higher and then tucking them into our sides, making us into a drowsy burrito. I know he’ll somehow keep all of our kids from crawling beneath the blankets with us, if only to save every one of us from embarrassment.

“At least you’re wearing a shirt,” he says, smoothing back some of my hair and kissing the top of my head. I’m wearing his shirt, and we’re lucky I’ve got at least that on. Because after last night, I was too tired to find mine and his was on the floor right by the bed. I squeeze my arms into his sides and smile. I love sleeping like this, laid out across his chest with our legs twined and my ear over his heart. The sound and feel of his pulse against his cheek soothes me.

************

_“Why don’t you take a bath and unwind?” Peeta suggests as he fixes a mug of tea and hands it to me. The kids are finally asleep and his idea sounds wonderful. It’s been a nightmare couple of months, trying to extend the protections on Blue Bell Lake, but we’ve managed to keep it protected for another five years and I’ve about had enough. I’m just so tired from fighting, from everything._

_“Why don’t you join me?” I ask, already sensing the answer as Peeta glances back at the paperwork scattered over the kitchen table. He’s trying to get a jump start on the taxes for the bakery. We’ve both been so busy lately with everything going on that we haven’t had much time for each other. I can see the hesitation in his eyes and resign myself to a lonely bath when he turns and kisses my temple, rubs a hand up and down my back._

_“Go get the water started. I’ll just get this mess cleared off the table.”_

************

“Knock before you barge in there!” Karina says as the door slides open a crack. I catch just a glimpse of messy black hair before Olive jumps back out of my sight. Karina catches herself and the next time she speaks, her tone is much softer. “It’s polite to knock first. Here. We’ll knock together.”

“Knock! Knock!” Avery shouts and pushes Cole over the threshold before Peeta can even finish telling them to “Come in.”

Cole freezes and clutches his brown flannel blanket, the one he named “Chock-it” — which is how he pronounces “chocolate” right now — to his face, gray eyes wide as the others stumble inside. Avery and Olive don’t hesitate to climb onto the bed, excitedly talking about tonight.

“Uncle Haymitch showed us the fireworks he got us for tonight!”

“Archer and Hunter are bringing theirs too!”

“There’s gonna be like a million fireworks!” Olive says as she falls back onto the bed, sinking into the fluffy comforter, her arms spread wide. “It’s gonna be so awesome.”

Karina picks up Cole, rolling her eyes at Olive’s exuberance as she sets him on the bed and then joins us, draws her legs up to cross them. Cole crawls over Avery to get to us, his pudgy toddler knee digging into her gut.

“Cole!”

“Sorry. Excuse,” he says before shoving his thumb in his mouth. I lift my arm and he curls into Peeta’s and my sides, wrapping his blanket around himself. Peeta cups Cole’s head in his hand and kisses his hair.

“You alright, Avery?” I ask and reach out to tug on a lock of her hair back into its place over her eye. The streak that’s dyed electric blue because Archer convinced her it would “look rad” with her silver eyes and dark olive skin. Felicity took her to the hairdresser to have it done and had a matching violet streak put into her own hair. Avery nods, and now that Karina has joined the excited talk, there’s no silence, only the pandemonium of a trio of girls looking forward to New Years Eve.

I listen to them and Peeta murmurs with Cole, to keep him from feeling overwhelmed or left out by his rambunctious sisters. Joy consumes me in this moment. It’s been a trying and wonderful five years.

Those first five months of living with Peeta and Karina presented plenty of challenges as we adjusted. There were days when it almost became too much. When I wanted to run. The one time I did that, escaped back to my apartment, I didn’t last an hour before I realized I was making a huge mistake. And Peeta was waiting with reddened eyes and understanding, if a touch of anger and hurt, when I returned home. But he never blamed me or made me feel guilty for sometimes needing space. So when my lease was up in May, the apartment was already vacant and clean, ready for a new tenant.

A few months later, Peeta quietly asked me to marry him. Actually, we sort of asked each other at the same time. It wasn’t big or showy but it was perfect for us. So was our wedding. After which, Karina handed me her sparkling red notebook (I was right about Project Wedding Bells), and pulled out a blue one to start her next project. Before she could fill one page of it, though, I told her that I needed her opinion on something and showed her my green one. Operation Blend. She stared at it for a solid five minutes and then started bawling. At first, I thought I’d misread her desires, assumed too much, pushed too far, but before I could ask or apologize, she knocked over a chair and a glass of milk trying to get into my arms.

“I’m starved,” Avery cuts into the conversation and Peeta suggests they all head downstairs to get the table set for breakfast.

“I’ll be right down to start pancakes,” he says over the ruckus of them vacating our room.

“Can we make crepes instead?” Avery asks and Peeta agrees. Her face brightens as she hurries out of the room. “Yes!”

Karina lingers at the door to shake her head, a secretive smile on her face at the sight of us still entwined and having not moved an inch yet. She closes the door on the way out.

“She’s getting way too smart,” I mutter and press a kiss to Peeta’s pectoral.

“Yeah, you’re a terrible influence on her.” Peeta’s hands slide down my sides and haul me up his body to kiss me on the mouth. “I think I prefer last night’s fireworks show,” he murmurs between soft kisses.

“Me too,” I say. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for Haymitch to be around an open flame.”

“Or fireworks.”

“Or our children,” I say and Peeta laughs. He pushes on my hip and I slide off of him. I bite my lip as he climbs out of the bed, unable to look away from the ten red lines that curve up out his pajama pants, five above each ass cheek. The marks look a little like fireworks.

************

_The water’s warmth begins to fade, but I don’t want to get out just yet. It’s such a luxury just sitting here, leaning back into Peeta’s embrace and talking quietly. Finally having a few moments just for the two of us. His hands massage the water, silky with bath oils, into my skin and I reach back to caress his hair. He kisses my shoulder and murmurs that he’s getting out before he starts to wrinkle._

_“I think I want a few more minutes,” I say as he slides from the water. I brace my crossed arms on the edge of the tub and watch him as he dries off._

_“Don’t fall asleep in there,” he murmurs and kisses my lips before leaving with the towel wrapped around his waist._

************

Peeta pulls on a white t-shirt and I grab a clean pair of panties, shimmy into them and then a pair of lounge pants. My hair is beyond repair and will just have to wait until I get a shower after breakfast.

“Let’s go make sure the kids haven’t destroyed the kitchen,” Peeta says. We both know Avery would never allow that. While she’s not too sure about the baking thing, she’s got a knack and a passion for cooking.

Together, we head downstairs and jump right into breakfast preparations. Somehow, he makes a game out of it and all of the kids wind up pitching in to help. It’s loud and chaotic, but as I glance around the room, my hands busy slicing up fruits to top the crepes with, I wouldn’t change a thing.

We had just started to talk about maybe having another child, about six months after our wedding. Peeta wanted one so badly, and even Karina had been dropping hints about wanting a sister. Before the blue notebook could make a reappearance or she could make an attempt at launching Project Stork, the unexpected happened.

The woman who owned the Greasy Spoon, a lady the town affectionately refers to as Greasy Sae, had been serving Peeta and I lunch one day, her eyes red rimmed and her demeanor subdued. Unable to watch anyone in pain, Peeta had asked her if something was bothering her. The entire story spilled out as she collapsed into the booth next to me and I awkwardly rubbed a hand over her back.

She had two children, her daughter currently serving in the army, leaving a grandchild with cerebral palsy in Greasy Sae’s custody during deployments. Her son and daughter-in-law had just been killed in a murder-suicide, orphaning their three children. Two girls and a boy. Ages 7, 5, and 1 at the time. Avery, Olive, and Cole. Greasy Sae couldn’t take them. She felt she could barely keep up with the care of one grandchild, but that meant the other three would inevitably wind up in foster care, spilt up, moved across the country, or worse if she couldn’t find a family to take all three of them soon.

We’d heard the story on the news, but no names had been released with it. Seeing the reality of the whole thing struck something within me. It took us two days of talking and thinking. We brought Karina into the discussion, too. In the end, it was me who came to the conclusion. We were taking those children in as a foster family. The moment I pronounced it, Peeta’s smile said it all. He’d wanted them, too. He’d just been holding back, waiting for indications from both Karina and me.

While she liked the idea in practice, it wasn’t until she met them that Karina found her certainty. But the second she met Avery and Olive, the moment Cole clung to the leg of her jeans and sucked on his thumb, her blue eyes as wide as his gray while they examined each other, we knew, and she confirmed it later. Karina would never forgive us if we didn’t expand our family to include them. Which is how we wound up adopting all three of them. That was two and a half years ago and effectively put our tentative baby talks on hold.

************

_I’m so relaxed and warm that all the worries of the year seem surmountable. Adopting the kids put us in a financial crunch for awhile, especially since the town home was far too small and that meant we needed a house. Thankfully, Rory and Prim sold us theirs for a bargain. After his botched proposal, they split up. Since they were under water on the house with the recent renovations, they rented it out for awhile before finally selling it to us when their tenants moved out at a fortuitous time. Then there was the adjusting for everyone. A new house, new members of our family, new responsibilities and problems to face. It’s only recently felt like things were getting to some kind of normal. Through it all, Peeta somehow remained hopeful and supportive. And now, alone in the tub, I realize that I don’t want to be alone at all right now. I pull the plug and rise from the water, only getting myself partially dried before I drop my towel and stumble into our bedroom._

************

“Why is the first one always gross looking?” Avery asks, lifting it from the pan to examine the bubbles and misshapen circles on the underside. I smile as Peeta snatches it from her tongs and scarfs it down.

“Dad!” she shouts, although she’s smiling, and the others laugh.

“Tastes fine to me,” he says around a mouthful. I shake my head and he winks at me. There’s something in his eyes that takes me back to last night. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s excitement. Or maybe it’s just desire.

************

_The door hits the stopper with a bang and Peeta looks up at me, his eyes widening at the sight. I probably look crazed, body half dried with my hair bedraggled and wet at the ends but not the roots. Completely naked. He’s sitting in bed, lounging against the pillows in nothing but pajama pants, his sketchbook propped on one knee._

_“Put that down,” I demand. “You’re knocking me up tonight.”_

_“What?” Peeta asks, laughing through the surprised word._

_“You heard me,” I say._

_We’ve vaguely restarted the conversation about having a baby since I had to stop taking my birth control last month because of its side effects. I haven’t started a new one yet. Although we usually pause the baby conversation when one of us mentions that five is probably one too many. The truth is, I’m a little scared. I’ve adopted all our kids, given birth to none, although the three we adopted together look like I could have._

_I love every one of them. They’re everything to me, my children. And I wouldn’t change one addition we’ve made along the way. But I want this, too. I want our next baby growing and nurtured inside me, adding to our already incredible family. And I know that deep down, Peeta wants it too._

_I stride across the room, determined. He just has time to set aside the sketch book before I’m on my knees next to him, my hands leaving damp trails over his cheeks and chest as I smash my mouth to his and force my tongue between his lips. He kisses me back but remains otherwise motionless for a moment, probably stunned._

_When he catches up to the realization that I am seducing him, he reaches for the nightstand where we keep the condoms since I went off the pill. I don’t stop kissing him while I smack his hand. He tears his mouth from mine then, looking up at me with wide eyes._

_“Wait, you’re serious,” he says as I suck on his earlobe. Then my hand cups his cock over his pants and I grab hold. Peeta sucks in a sharp breath and I bite down on his ear to hide my grin at the feel of him growing hard in my grip as I massage him._

_“Fuck, okay. Yes! Katniss, yes,” he says and pulls me on top of him._

************

“If there’s a next one in this family, I want another brother,” Karina mutters and pounds on the bathroom door. “Olive! You’ve been in there all morning!”

“You were in here longer yesterday!” Olive shouts back.

“Open up! If it’s your hair, I can help!”

“Fine!” Olive whines and Karina snorts, her laughter clearly stifled by something. Probably her hand. Peeta shakes his head as Olive yells at Karina to get inside.

“We might need Mom for this,” Karina says right before the door shuts.

“We might need another bathroom. Wait until she finds out how much longer boys spend in the there,” Peeta says, kneeling beside me to take over helping Cole with his snow pants. “I think your expertise is required in the hair salon.”

He could do it too of course, but it took a long time for Olive to get comfortable with Peeta fixing her hair for her. Which is why I’m on tap for hair emergencies while it’s whichever parent has a free set of hands for the everyday hairdos.

“Does Uncle Haymitch have Oscar?” I hear Cole ask as I head towards the bathroom to see if the girls need help. He’s asking if Haymitch has PBS so he can watch Sesame Street.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” Peeta says. “So why don’t you bring your Oscar with you? You can pretend.”

“Will you pretend with me, Daddy? And Mommy too?” I smile as my heart melts and Peeta assures him we’d love to pretend. It took Cole the longest to start calling us “Mommy and Daddy.” Mainly because he barely said two words the first six months he lived with us. All we got were one word answers or requests if it was deemed worth removing his thumb from his mouth. Pointing for everything else. The whole process from foster parents to adopted parents had taken close to a year, although we were lucky that the we were able to bring the kids to live with us through the whole thing.

The bathroom door opens as soon as I knock. “We have a braid emergency,” Karina tells me and Olive whines that she just wanted to try wearing it the way Karina does.

“Has anyone seen my glasses?” Avery shouts from down the hallway. Karina rolls her eyes and heads towards her sisters’ shared room to help out.

“Have her check between the bed and the nightstand,” I tell Karina as I slather Olive’s hair with conditioner to help loosen the tangles. “Your Dad had to turn her light off and deal with her book again last night.”

“At least I can sleep through anything!” Olive says cheerfully. Including hockey buzzers, I think as I bite my lip to keep from laughing. She napped on the bench during one of her games, and that wound up being their first win of the season. Since then...no one touches Olive if she falls asleep in the third period.

************

_We each commit one hand to getting his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips. He’s still pushing them, trying to get them past his thighs, but I can’t wait any longer. I need him inside me, filling me in every way possible. We don’t speak, our mouths occupied with kissing, hungry and desperate. I grip his cock and align our bodies. That’s when he gives up on the pants and helps me, sitting upright and thrusting his hips up at the same time, making me moan into his mouth. He’s not all the way hard and I’m not even fully seated when we start moving. Our frantic rocking does the job for us. I can feel him swelling inside me, and fuck if I don’t get wetter at the sensations._

_He braces a hand on the mattress behind him as he thrusts up, helping him go deeper. His left arm wraps around me, holds me to him, hand gripping my side so hard I can feel his wedding band digging into my ribs._

_I try to notice everything about this moment, his pained moans puffed against my shoulder. The heat of his skin beneath my clenching hands. The silk of his hair sliding between my fingers, and the overwhelming feeling of being filled and stretched and loved. I come apart in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Swift and powerful, over faster than a flash of lightning. And then I’m limp in his arms._

************

It’s ten minutes of insanity getting out the door and then twenty of relative quiet as we drive. Avery’s already got her nose in a book and Olive is talking Peeta’s ear off about hockey. Cole has a quiet conversation with his stuffed Oscar the Grouch that I occasionally join as The Count because it’s the only other voice I can consistently imitate, although Karina claims I do a fabulous Cookie Monster. I think she’s being snarky when she says that.

As they’re piling out of the SUV we replaced Peeta’s car with, which I have affectionately dubbed the “Suburban Assault Vehicle,” the grandmothers exit Haymitch’s house to help out. All three of them — my mother, Felicity, and Sae. They’ve somehow forgotten whose genes did or did not contribute to our four kids, sharing in the responsibilities, the love, and the perks, of being grandma. And I love them all for it.

Before I can get out of the car, Peeta leans over and kisses my neck. “Have I told you today how happy I am with our life?”

“Doesn’t hurt to say it more than once,” I tease.

************

_Peeta rolls us over while I mumble incoherent words, snatches of my love as he thrusts into me, his hands cradling my head, chest sliding against mine. He’s practically crushing me, his teeth digging into my shoulder. I demand that he go harder, faster, give me more. Give me all of him. I grip his ass with both hands and whine at the feel of his muscles clenching with each thrust. Claw at his skin trying to take him deeper inside me._

_“I can’t say no to you,” Peeta whispers. I know what he’s doing. Distracting himself with words to get me there first. “Anything you want, I’ll try to give it to you. You’ve got my heart. Everything I am.”_

_Somehow as he talks and loves me, I find myself poised to shatter again. “And now you want my cum, don’t you. You want my cum, Katniss?”_

_“Please please please please Peeta please! Give it to me please,” I chant shamelessly, throwing a hand over my head and gripping a fistful of sheets to keep him from fucking me right off the edge of the bed._

_He grunts once, the sound frantic and then his hips smack into mine again and again. I hold him to me as he hits home and stays. I can feel his cock pulsing and twitching inside me, planting the first seeds of hope. I smile as we lay there, sweaty and mostly sated. I’m still hanging right there on the edge of second orgasm, but I got what I wanted. I lift my feet enough to rest them on the backs of his calves and sigh happily, running my fingers through his hair and trailing them over his back._

************

The shouts travel across the field behind Haymitch’s house in the frosted air. I sip my hot chocolate. Quickly lowering it to yell a protest at the ref’s questionable call. Gale waves me off as an annoyance and I laugh.

“Do you have any green fireworks for tonight, Uncle Haymitch?” Cole asks beside me. Haymitch squats down next to the boy and tries to hide his indulgent smile. The old geezer is smitten with our kids, although he’d deny it if you point it out to him.

“We’ve got them in just about any color you could want. Why do you ask, Sport?”

“Cuz green is my favorite.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhmm. Oscar’s green,” Cole explains, holding up his favorite stuffed animal.

“An excellent choice,” Haymitch says, but Cole isn’t done yet. He nearly splits me wide open with affection at his next words.

“I don’t want to miss the green ones. So I’ll try real hard to stay awake. Cuz the leaves on trees are green. And I like going to the forest with Mommy. She lets me get leaves to make art with Daddy. But only leaves that are on the ground. Not the ones still on the trees because pulling them off would be like pulling someone’s hair and pulling hair isn’t nice.”

“Right you are,” Haymitch says. His amused eyes meet mine for a moment. It’s rare that Cole says so much in one go. Haymitch knows this and turns back to Cole, looking very serious now.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we find some green ones and we’ll set them up for an early show. That way you won’t miss them if you fall asleep before midnight.”

“Okay,” Cole says.

I waver for a moment as Haymitch walks off with Cole towards where he’s got the pyrotechnics set up for later tonight. It’s not that I don’t trust Haymitch, it’s just that Cole is so quiet that he can slip away unnoticed fairly easily.

“I’ll go help,” Prim says, following the pair and taking Cole’s hand in hers. She says something that makes him giggle. I turn back to the impromptu hockey game -- sort of since they’re all in boots not skates and are playing with a tennis ball rather than a puck. I’m just in time to watch Olive score a spectacular goal against Hunter. She circles back from the goal to high five Karina, who set her up for the shot. They rush back to their own goal with the rest of their team. All of them except Vick pile on top of Peeta for a team celebration -- Olive, Karina, Meaghan, and Elaina. When they disperse to continue the game, Peeta’s heated gaze meets mine. My belly tightens in response and I hide my blush behind my mug of hot cocoa.

************

_“I’m not done with you yet,” Peeta promises, his deep tone stirring my half fulfilled need. He urges me to hook my feet together over his ass and shifts his knees beneath him, elevating my hips off the bed, his cock still hard inside me. We’ve got a moment or two before he goes soft. He rotates his hips, bringing me back up to almost there. His fingers find my clit and draw determined circles on me. I start moaning and bite my lip to dampen the sounds. Peeta presses his forehead to mine and whispers to me about how gorgeous I am and how much he wants this. Wants his seed to take root and make our family grow._

_My hips buck into his touch, into him, and my thighs clench to the point of pain. To the point that they’re shaking as I release a warbling wail and finally succumb, my walls clenching on his cock as he groans and encourages me. I let it happen. All the terrifying tidal waves of feeling that I once tried to avoid. I welcome them now._

************

The burst of red spreads across the inky black sky, the soft _pop_ reaches our ears shortly after. Karina rests her head on my shoulder and tries to hide her yawn from me. She stayed up late talking on the phone with friends last night and now she’s paying the price.

I can’t be too angry with her, though. She’s developed a habit of collecting friends who need help. Of opening her heart and finding ways to understand people who’ve built the tallest walls around their own heart. Like Elaina Jacobs, the girl who once told Karina she was nothing but a mistake to Glimmer. The next time nasty words passed the girl’s lips, my daughter responded not with anger but with kindness and discovered that she and Elaina had a lot in common.

At the time, Elaina was dealing with her parents on the verge of divorce, her father having cheated on her mother for close to a decade. All she really needed was someone who could understand. Karina became that person and eventually they both found a friend in each other.

I wrap my arm around her and hold her closer to me, enjoying the moments she still allows me to be like this with her. Soft laughter and conversation fill the night between explosions. Madge leads several of the gathered kids making exaggerated “oooooohs” and “aaaaahs” in appreciation.

“Is there anymore hot chocolate, Mom?” Karina asks.

“I think so,” I say. “Let’s go find some.”

We hurry back towards the house and I tuck my face deeper into my scarf to hide the way it still affects me every time one of them calls me “Mom.” It’s a terrifying joy. An awesome responsibility. But then my eyes land on Peeta, his arms wrapped around Avery and Olive as they lean back into him to watch the fireworks. As it always does, just watching him with our kids quiets my fears and makes me feel like everything will be okay.

************

_Peeta’s arm cradles me as I slowly relax, sinking into the bliss of the aftermath. Our lips move together, the rest of us finally still. When our lips part and our eyes open to meet, I twist his hair around my fingers and whisper that I love him. Peeta smiles and kisses me._

_“I never get tired of hearing you say that. I love you so much, Katniss.”_

_With a sigh, I relax into the sheets and shift my legs against him, thinking joyful and frightening thoughts of what we may have just started. Peeta rolls off of me and takes my hand in his as I shift onto my side to face him._

_“I realize this might be a little late, but are you sure?” he asks. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face._

_“Positive,” I say. “Although we should talk to the kids about the possibility of adding another sibling to the mix before we make another attempt.”_

_“We will. New Years Day?”_

_“Seems appropriate,” I say and yawn loudly. His fingers trace up my legs and over my hip. Back down as he leaves whispering kisses on my shoulder, raising goosebumps with the lightness of his touch on me. His fingers caress down between my legs and I squirm, but Peeta has discovered the sticky mess we made together._

_“We’re gonna need another bath,” he says, and I laugh._

_“In a minute.”_

_I shift closer to him and we remain in bed, whispering and cuddled together until I’m almost asleep and Peeta has to wake me to shower and get some clothing on so we don’t traumatize our children in the morning. All I manage is a shirt before I fall on top of him in bed._

************

The fireworks have been spent and the cold drove us all back inside. Cole sleeps curled up on the couch, oblivious to the party around him, although he did get to enjoy the early evening, all-green fireworks show. The kids huddle close to Haymitch’s TV, blocking the view of the ball as it flares to life in preparation for its drop. Between family and friends, there’s just so many of them this year.  I wonder if we’ll be adding another to the mix next New Years.

The countdown starts and Peeta finds me, his arms wrapping around me as I tilt my head back to look up at him and smile. “All this because you needed a babysitter for a date,” I say and know he heard me despite the ruckus because of the sparks in his eyes and the smile on his face.

“I think I got the better end of the deal on that one,” he whispers, holding me closer. The countdown reaches single digits and I don’t care if I’m early or breaking traditions. Sometimes I can be my own kiss demanding despot. I thread my fingers through Peeta’s hair and end my December the way I wanted to start it over six years ago, with Peeta’s lips on mine, his love in my heart, and yes, vividly naughty thoughts of him in my head.

It’s a good way to end a month. Or start a new year.


End file.
